


A Healing Silence

by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depression, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Eichen | Echo House, F/M, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Reunions, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:13:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 36,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere/pseuds/HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere
Summary: Stiles is slowly pushed out of the pack following his fight with Scott about Donovan's death.  After receiving a phone number from an old friend, Stiles is surprised to find that it belongs to the one person who may be able to bring him back to himself.





	1. Simply existing

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [A Healing Silence (Traduccion)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746118) by [yuki_yuki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuki_yuki/pseuds/yuki_yuki)



> A BIG thank you to my wonderful beta, Alex! I literally could not have done this without you!
> 
> Let me know what you think! <3

Stiles doesn’t sleep anymore. Well, he does, just not when he should. Instead, he drives around town aimlessly until it’s time for school, or until he grows bored of driving and stops at a diner to watch his coffee turn cold.

This routine continues for weeks on end. It’s the town’s worst kept secret – the insomniac son of the Sheriff, whose eyes grow duller and duller every day, frequenting the only three 24-hour diners in town on a loop.

His dad knows. He sees his son stop eating, surviving only on coffee and whatever easily transportable food has been left out on the counter every morning. 

After picking up on this pattern, John starts leaving bananas and apples out to try and counteract the pop tarts and fruit rollups Stiles has seemingly been existing on.

John doesn’t know exactly what prompted this change in his son’s behavior. He only knows that Scott has stopped coming around.

Stiles has stopped talking, too. His day consists of going to school, sitting silently through his classes, getting detention every day from one teacher or another for refusing to answer questions or for (mercifully) falling asleep in class, coming home, waiting until his dad has gone to sleep, then getting in his car and driving.

John is just relieved that this catatonia had begun after Stiles sent in all of his college applications. Stiles had been oddly cagey about which colleges he had been applying to, but as long as they are far, far away, John doesn’t really care where Stiles goes. He’s resigned himself to the fact that he’ll live and die in Beacon Hills, but he doesn’t want that life for his son.

After his fight with Scott, Stiles tries to stay in the loop so he can help with the Dread Doctors. He keeps a close eye on Theo, and tries to do as much as he can to help from afar. 

But after weeks of being snubbed by the other pack members, Stiles gives up helping and retreats into himself. He has no allies. Not Scott, or Malia, or Kira, or even Liam. He has Lydia for a while, but no one tells her why he and Scott are fighting, so she eventually has to pick a side.

To her credit, she doesn’t really pick Scott. She picks helping people. 

And Stiles can barely help himself, let alone others. 

She keeps in contact with Stiles semi-regularly, though, until Theo inevitably betrays the pack.

After Theo temporarily kills Scott and starts a series of events that sends Lydia to Eichen House, the only person Stiles has left is his dad.

But that isn’t enough. He can’t tell his dad what happened – what he did – so he stops talking altogether. 

One night in mid-November, Stiles hears his phone chirp in his pocket while out driving. Frowning to himself since no one has texted him in months, he pulls into the diner parking lot and takes out his phone.

Cora (3:13am): I hear you’re having trouble sleeping.

Stiles sighs and puts his phone back in his pocket, not even having the energy to text back something snarky.

After warming his hands on a cup of coffee inside, Stiles takes his phone out and rereads the text a few times. Why would Cora be texting him? Who told her that he was having trouble sleeping? Not Scott, that’s for sure. Scott has made it more than clear that he can’t be bothered with Stiles now that Stiles is a murderer. 

The word brings up bile from his throat into his mouth. Stiles chokes it down and takes a big gulp of his coffee. The only thing that motivates him to respond to Cora’s text is the desperate need for a distraction from his current line of thinking.

Stiles (3:36am): Yeah.

Cora (3:36am): Really? That’s all I get?

Stiles rolls his eyes and considers putting his phone away again. He feels something warm curling up in his gut and frowns when he recognizes it as curiosity. Deciding to see where it will take him, he responds.

Stiles (3:38am): What do you want, Cora?

Cora (3:38am): Maybe a little indication that my presence has been missed?

Stiles (3:39am): You’ve been missed. Now what do you want?

Cora (3:39am): Geez, Stilinski, tone down the enthusiasm. I just wanted to see how you’re doing. 

Stiles looks down at the text for so long, he loses track of time. In all honesty, he has no idea how to answer Cora’s question. How’s he doing?

He killed Donovan, lost his best friend, his pack had been taken over by a psychopath who no one believed was evil, Lydia is stuck in Eichen House and her mother won’t let him see her, he’s pretty sure he’s slowly dying of hunger, and he hasn’t spoken in weeks. 

Stiles (4:27am): I’m fine.

Cora doesn’t respond, so Stiles leans back into the booth and looks outside until he sees the sun start to rise over the parking lot. He slowly gets up from the table and makes his way to school for another day of simply existing in his skin.

He’s sitting alone at Boyd’s old lunch table when he hears his phone go off again. The little flame of curiosity reignites in his gut, so with a sigh he checks the message. 

This time, Cora has sent him a phone number.

Stiles (12:09pm): What am I supposed to do with this?

Cora doesn’t respond, so he turns his phone to silent and forgets about the whole conversation.

Two weeks later, Stiles is sitting next to his dad on the couch. His dad is flipping through channels to find a game on, and Stiles is staring at the corner of the TV, hoping it will look like he’s watching it.

There’s a muted ping and it takes a second for Stiles to realize it’s his phone chiming with an incoming text from the kitchen. He debates leaving it, and has almost decided to do so, before he gets a look at his dad’s hopeful expression. 

Shame tastes like copper in his mouth at the sight. He must be royally messed up if his dad looks like that over one freaking text message. 

Stiles rises from his seat and shuffles into the kitchen to get his phone. He waits until he’s back in the living room to check it, figuring he could at least give his dad the sight of him interacting with someone to tide him over.

Cora (6:32pm): Have you used the number I gave you yet?

Stiles frowns as he tries to figure out what she’s talking about. When he finally remembers the number she had texted him a while back, he shakes his head.

Chancing a glance up at his dad, Stiles sees that he is biting his lip to keep from asking Stiles who he’s talking to. The Sheriff stopped asking him anything but yes or no questions months ago, hating the disappointment that came whenever Stiles couldn’t answer.

Stiles (6:33pm): No.

Cora (6:33pm): What the fuck? Have you given up completely?

Stiles doesn’t respond. Because he knows that he has.

When Stiles comes home the next morning at around 5:00am, he finds his dad in the kitchen crying. Their eyes lock through the hallway, and Stiles is at a loss.

He knows why his dad is crying, and he knows he should feel absolutely gutted. But he can’t find it in himself to feel anything.

This, more than anything else he has experienced in his nearly eighteen years on this earth, scares him into action.

Knowing that his presence as a walking skeleton version of Stiles will only upset his dad more, he turns and shuffles up the stairs. 

He sits on his bed and takes out his phone, pulling up the number Cora had sent him.

He rattles off a “who is this?” to the number, and lies back on his bed to wait.

As it turns out, Stiles doesn’t have to wait long. 

Unknown (5:18am): Who is THIS?

Stiles (5:18am): Stiles. Cora gave me your number. I don’t know why.

There’s a long pause before the number responds. When they do, Stiles is shocked.

Unknown (5:26am): It’s Derek.


	2. Stilted conversation

With shaky hands, he programs Derek’s name into his phone. 

Stiles is at a loss. He has no idea why Cora has given him Derek’s number, or why she’s been so insistent that he use it. What help can Derek give him?

He won’t deny, though, that the thought of talking to Derek brings back Stiles’ curiosity – more so than talking to Cora had. 

Derek (5:28am): What’s wrong, Stiles? Why are you awake right now?

Stiles clings onto the second question like a lifeline, ignoring the first for now. 

Stiles (5:28am): I don’t sleep. Why are you awake right now?

Derek (5:29am): It’s a more socially acceptable time to be awake in my time zone.

Stiles (5:29am): Right. CST. 

Derek (5:29am): Stiles, how do you know what time zone I’m in?

Stiles is surprised to find that his mouth has curved into a smile at the question. 

Stiles (5:30am): Why did Cora give me your number?

Derek (5:30am): Why can’t you sleep?

Stiles tosses his phone onto his bed beside him, giving up the stalemate. 

Over the next week, Derek continues to text him. Most of the messages don’t require an answer, for which Stiles is grateful. All of them, however, bring up a fraction of an emotion Stiles had long thought lost to him.

The first message is just a picture of a sunrise through a thick tree line. The trees look so much like the ones in the Preserve, Stiles thinks for a moment that Derek has come back to town. He shakes that thought from his mind when he takes a closer look and sees that Derek’s trees have a life in them not currently found in the Preserve.

The next message is an innocuous one about a noisy neighbor who has been driving Derek crazy. 

The third is another picture – this one of the stars on a clear night. There’s no light pollution, so almost every star in the sky is visible. Stiles finds himself smiling down at the picture for the better part of an hour, before he saves it to his phone and makes it his wallpaper.

Sometimes Stiles responds. The responses are usually short, most of the time no longer than one or two words. But Derek seems to understand that it’s all Stiles can manage, so he never pushes for more. He also never calls. Stiles starts to wonder if someone has told him that Stiles doesn’t talk anymore.

Just over a week after he first texts Derek, Stiles walks into the kitchen after school and finds his dad in the middle of a phone call. 

“Yeah, I got it,” his dad says quietly into the phone. He rubs his free hand over his face wearily and sits down with a deep sigh.

Having not yet been noticed, Stiles stands still in the doorway and takes a good look at his dad. There are more grey hairs than Stiles remembers him having, and it looks like he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a few weeks. His skin looks a little loose on his face, which Stiles realizes with a slight pang is because Stiles used to do all the cooking.

What Stiles really wants to do is go upstairs and lay on his bed for awhile. But his father’s gaunt appearance stirs something in his gut, and he moves forward into the kitchen to start making a proper meal.

When John realizes he’s not alone, his voice turns into a whisper. “Yeah, I gotta go. Thanks.” He pauses and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his voice is soft and full of gratitude. “I mean it. Thank you.”

He hangs up and looks at Stiles guiltily. Stiles cocks his head to the side in question, but his dad changes the subject.

Their conversations these days are stilted, mostly due to the fact that they’re almost completely one sided. 

“You got a package today,” John says carefully.

Stiles turns his back on his dad and starts heating up water on the stove. The small flame of curiosity in his gut is extinguished at his father’s words. The package is probably from one of the colleges he won’t be attending.

“It’s from Derek,” his dad tries again.

Stiles’ head shoots up and he spins around wildly. His dad’s eyes go wide at the reaction.

He hands Stiles the small padded envelope silently and sits back to watch Stiles open it. 

Stiles shakes the envelope until its contents fall into his hand. 

“Keys,” Stiles whispers in confusion, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

His father’s eyebrows hit his hairline, but he doesn’t say anything, afraid that if he does, Stiles will retreat back into himself.

Stiles looks inside the envelope to see if there’s a note. He finds a sticky note that just says:

“Stiles,

You need these more than I do.

Derek”

Stiles knows without any further explanation that they’re the keys to Derek’s loft.

He looks up at his dad with a warily hopeful expression. It stuns the Sheriff into silence momentarily. 

“We’ll go after dinner,” he concedes, smiling slightly.

Stiles nods and turns back towards the stove.

The two eat in silence, but halfway through the meal, Stiles’ phone pings.

Derek (5:56pm): Use it well

Stiles snorts in surprise. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he responds.

Stiles (5:57pm): Was that a Harry Potter reference?

Derek (5:57pm): Maybe.

Stiles looks at his phone in shock. It’s weird enough that Derek’s texting him semi-regularly, but sending him keys to the loft and texting Harry Potter references? 

Looking up from his phone, Stiles sees his father giving him an unreadable look.

Stiles starts to feel all the pent up guilt from the last few months try and make a break for his chest. He pushes it back down and locks it away, molding his face into a blank mask and turning off his phone.

He sighs. It’s just easier this way, or so he tells himself.

Stiles takes a few seconds to get his breathing under control and counts his fingers surreptitiously under the table. Once he has collected himself, he pushes his food around on his plate until his dad is done eating and it’s time to leave for the loft.

Like dinner, the drive to the loft is silent. Most of the time, Stiles revels in the quiet. Other times, all he can hear is the echo of himself screaming, Scott calling him a killer, the clang of pipes falling down in the library.

This time, it’s the blissful kind of silence. He turns the keys around in his hand and wonders what will greet him when he slides open the loft doors.

Will the furniture still be there? Will it smell musty? 

Will he only remember the bad things that happened there? Boyd’s death, the Nogitsune telling Chris to shoot him, realizing with Peter that Scott and Derek were walking into the Alpha Pack’s trap at the bank. 

Or will the good memories come flooding back? The rave Danny organized, helping Derek string up the light bulbs for Scott and Kira’s date, spending time with Cora while Peter lied his ass off about Paige.

Suddenly Stiles finds himself at the door to the loft. He shakes his head and with sturdy hands, inserts the key into the lock. Part of him still thinks it won’t work, but he hears a satisfying click and slides open the door.


	3. Derek's loft

He is greeted with emotions, not memories. 

Nostalgia, peace, comfort, home, Derek.

The force of all of these emotions hitting him at once sends him staggering into the hallway. His father catches him and leads him to the lone couch sitting in the main area.

Stiles struggles to catch his breath. He tries to hold the air in, but his vision begins to swim. He can hear his dad talking and can see him crouching to meet Stiles’ eyes.

After what feels like hours, Stiles regains his hearing. His breath is still coming in painful spurts, but he can hear the soothing words his father is telling him.

He can hear his dad say to put his hand on his chest, so Stiles reaches out and lays his palm flat against his dad’s heart.

If he focuses, he can feel his dad’s heartbeat, so he stops listening and instead turns his energy towards the slow thrum under his right palm.

It’s soothing, but it’s not enough. Stiles’ head collapses onto the couch cushion and he focuses on trying to breathe in through his nose. He is assaulted by a scent from the cushions that takes what little breath he has away.

Derek.

He drops his hand from his dad’s chest and turns his whole body towards this new scent, inhaling it greedily. 

With every draw, he finds himself becoming more aware of his surroundings. 

He’s safe. He’s at Derek’s loft. 

Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on two things; Derek’s scent on the cushion, and his father’s hand on his arm.

He anchors himself to these sensations, allowing them to control his breathing. 

Derek’s scent, in.

Dad’s grip, out.

Finally, finally, he can breathe normally again. His head is pounding and he can feel his heart racing, but he can breathe well enough to open his eyes and sit up straight.

He takes one look at his father’s wrecked face and launches himself into the man’s arms.

After getting over the initial shock, John wraps himself around his boy, holding on with all the strength he can muster.

Stiles breaks.

He sobs and wails and shouts until he has nothing left to give. At some point, his dad joins him on the couch, but neither relinquishes their grip on the other. 

When Stiles has no more tears left and can’t bring himself to scream any longer, he collapses back onto the couch. 

The two sit in a new kind of silence for several minutes. A healing silence.

Stiles’ chest is heaving from exertion, while John’s is aching for his son.

“I’m so sorry, dad,” Stiles manages through his raw throat.

He expects his dad to cut him off and assure him that there’s nothing to be sorry for, because that’s the kind of person his dad is, but instead John sits back and closes his eyes.

“I know you are.”

He gathers Stiles into a bear hug and kisses the top of his head. Stiles whines under his breath when his dad gets up, but nods gratefully when he returns with a glass of water.

Apparently Derek has kept up with the amenity bills while he’s been gone. The thought makes Stiles smile, even through his exhausted state.

“I know you’re not ready to talk about it yet, son,” his dad says, resuming his seat. “But when you are, I’m here.”

Stiles nods, knowing he should say something.

“Ok,” he whispers back.

“Why don’t you go lay down for a minute? I’m going to call Derek and let him know we got in ok.”

Stiles frowns in confusion and accusation. 

His dad chuckles. “Who do you think talked to Cora?”

Stiles’ mouth opens incredulously. “You did that?” He croaks.

“You’ve always been different around the Hales, kid. Hell, even Peter,” John shudders. “Just be glad I didn’t call him first.”

“Thanks,” offers Stiles, rising from the couch to go lay down on Derek’s bed. He barely gets his shoes and jeans off before collapsing.

The bed smells so much like Derek, it almost makes Stiles feel like he’s there. He smiles and crawls under the covers, rolling himself up in the scent.

He sends off a text to Derek before he passes out.

Stiles (9:23pm): Thank you.

The next thing Stiles knows, he’s being woken up by the sunrise streaming through the wall of windows by the bed.

Turning towards the bedside table, he checks his phone. With a jolt, he sees that it’s just after 6:30am. He slept through the night.

He opens his messages, feeling almost weightless with relief. There’s one from his dad telling him that he had to go to work, but that he had called Stiles in sick from school for the day. The other is from Derek.

Derek (9:35pm): Always. 

Things get easier after that. Not substantially easier, but they ease up to the point where Stiles feels like he can breathe again.

Some days instead of driving around, Stiles goes to the loft. He doesn’t sleep every night, but being wrapped up in Derek’s scent for some reason helps him just relax and not think.

That’s the best he can hope for after sleep – not thinking for a while.

Derek continues to text him, and Stiles starts to respond more substantively. They begin to have full conversations about books and movies, classes and annoying teachers, Derek’s neighbors and the remodel he’s doing on his cabin. 

Stiles hasn’t outright told Derek he knows where he lives yet, but Derek knows he does. One day Stiles will tell him how it is that he knows, but not yet.

They don’t talk about Scott. Stiles isn’t sure how much his dad has told Derek. He’s not entirely sure how much his dad actually knows.

Not that Stiles murdered Donovan. Stiles is certain his dad doesn’t know about that. He would have said something.

But his dad does know about the fight with Scott. That something happened between the two of them that caused a rift so bad, Stiles stopped talking or sleeping.

The Sheriff shows his love however he can. He kicks the cooking into high gear and starts making food that Stiles can stomach. He pulls Scott over one day for a busted tail light. He doesn’t make a fuss when Stiles spends the night at the loft instead of the house.

It’s ok, but it’s not enough.

One day, right before Spring Break, Stiles runs into Scott in the hall. 

Literally runs into him.

Without looking up, Stiles mumbles an apology to whoever he hit.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles’ eyes go unfocused for a moment and his blood runs cold. It feels like ice shooting through his veins. 

That’s Scott’s voice.

Very slowly, Stiles raises his head and seeks out Scott’s eyes.

“What do you want, Scott? I’m gonna be late for class,” Stiles whispers, still not having found his voice yet.

Scott frowns. “I haven’t really seen you around much lately.”

“How hard have you been looking?” Stiles scoffs.

Scott slumps and furrows his brows. “Stiles, don’t do that. Look, I want to talk to you. Can we meet after school?”

“Now you want to talk to me? After months of avoiding me in the hallway and ignoring me during class, now you want to talk,” Stiles says incredulously. “Go to hell, Scott.” 

He turns to walk away, but is stopped by a hand gripping his arm. 

“Please,” Scott implores him. “Meet me out by the lacrosse field after school? Just… please.”

Stiles shakes his head and walks to class without responding. 

He sits down at his desk and pulls out his phone angrily, typing a message to Derek before his brain has even caught up to him. When had Derek become the person he talks to when he’s upset?

Stiles (11:52am): Scott just asked if I could meet him after school “to talk” can you believe it?!

He didn’t have to wait long for a response.

Derek (11:53am): Would you feel better if you talked to him?

Stiles rolls his eyes and pouts. 

Stiles (11:53am): Come on, Derek! You’re supposed to tell me how much of a dick Scott is.

Derek (11:54am): What a dick. I can’t believe him. The nerve.

Derek (11:54am): But would you feel better if you talked to him?

Despite Stiles’ leftover annoyance from his interaction with Scott, Stiles smiles.

Stiles (11:55am): I hate you.

Derek (11:55am): You don’t.

Stiles shakes his head fondly at his phone and puts it away just as class starts.


	4. Doubt

The day goes by slowly after that. Stiles answers a question out loud voluntarily in his English class and the teacher is so stunned, she walks into her desk in her haste to write Stiles’ correct response up on the board.

During lunch, Stiles sits alone at Boyd’s old table again, but this time he looks around and passes the time by people watching. 

He used to just sit there and wait for the lunch bell to ring, hoping no one would try to engage him in conversation. There were some days when the half hour would drag on almost indefinitely, and other days where he would lose time and it would feel like he had just taken his seat before the bell dismissed them.

Today, he fixes his sights on Scott’s table. 

Scott is sitting with Kira, Malia, Mason, and Liam.

Shaking his head, Stiles tries to think back on the last few months and recall any instances of supernatural trouble. There’s a pit in his stomach when he realizes he doesn’t know what’s been going on. 

What ever happened to Theo? Are the Dread Doctors still around?

It’s not his problem, Stiles decides. Not anymore. It’s up to the pack to protect Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. And he’s not part of the pack.

He looks back at Scott’s table and sees that the five of them have their heads together and are whispering furiously. He wonders to himself if they were that obvious when he was with them. 

Probably.

He takes out his phone and sees that there’s another text from Derek waiting for him. He’s surprised at how happy the thought makes him.

Derek (12:14pm): What did you decide?

Stiles looks back and the table, then at his phone. He sighs and responds after a few seconds. 

Stiles (12:23pm): I’ll go.

When the bell rings after his last class of the day, Stiles makes his way to the empty bleachers by the lacrosse field.

Scott approaches him silently and takes a seat a few feet away.

Stiles waits for Scott to start, until he realizes Scott’s waiting for the same thing.

With a sigh, Stiles begins. “What do you want, Scott?”

“I don’t want this,” Scott says dejectedly, motioning between the two of them.

“And what do you think this is?” Stiles asks wearily, leaning back onto the bleacher behind him.

“I don’t know,” Scott admits sadly. “We haven’t spoken in months, Stiles. This isn’t like us.”

Stiles laughs without humor. “There is no us anymore. You made that perfectly clear at the animal clinic.”

“You killed someone,” Scott argues a little too loudly.

Stiles doesn’t take the bait. He just closes his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m tired. I don’t want to fight with you. Just tell me what you want so I can go home.”

“I want to get Lydia out of Eichen House,” Scott says finally.

This causes Stiles to open his eyes. “Her mom is the only one who can get her out, and she won’t even let me visit Lydia anymore, let alone talk to me about releasing her. You can thank your old pal Theo for that one, too.”

Scott stands up and flashes his eyes at Stiles. “This isn’t about Theo, Stiles!”

Anger flares in Stiles’ gut. “You know what, Scott? You’re right. This isn’t about Theo. This is about you not giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

“The benefit of the doubt? You murd – .” Scott takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes fade back to brown. “I came here to talk to you about Lydia.”

“What are you gonna do, break her out?” Stiles asks dryly, ignoring how close Scott came to calling him a murderer again.

Clearly Theo hadn’t set the record straight before he betrayed Scott. 

When Scott doesn’t respond, Stiles meets his eyes in amazement. “You’re going to try to break her out? Oh, for fucks sake.”

He stomps towards the parking lot angrily. “Come on,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Stiles leads Scott to his jeep and waits for him to climb into the passenger seat. Without a word, Stiles begins to drive them to the Martin’s house.

“Where are we going, Stiles?” Scott asks warily.

When Stiles ignores him, Scott asks again with more urgency. 

“Oh, will you just shut up already?” Stiles snaps, rolling his eyes to the roof of the car.

Scott pouts. “Hey!”

Stiles ignores him again and continues driving silently until they reach the Martin house.

Ms. Martin answers the door and Stiles pushes his way inside, disregarding her protests. 

“Close the door, Scott,” he commands from the hallway. 

He walks to the living room and motions for Scott and Ms. Martin to sit.

“Stiles, get out of my house or I’m calling the police,” Ms. Martin demands shrilly.

“No,” he responds, gesturing once again to the couch.

Scott looks between the two, unsure of what is happening. “Stiles, maybe we should –”

“Fine, we’ll do this standing up,” Stiles interrupts.

“Do what?” Ms. Martin asks disbelievingly. “Stiles, what the hell are you doing barging into my house?”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Stiles begins, ignoring both of them. “Ms. Martin, you’re going to go down to Eichen House before they end visiting hours tonight and sign Lydia out.”

“I most certainly am not!” She looks outraged at the suggestion, but Stiles can see the doubt making itself known in her eyes. 

“Yes, you are,” he counters. “And do you want to know why?”

When she doesn’t answer, Scott steps in. “What are you doing, Stiles?”

“Because she’s a banshee,” he says, ignoring Scott once again.

Ms. Martin shakes her head and points to the door. “I want you both out of here right now,” she tells them coldly.

“Stiles, maybe we should go…”

“No, she’s been ignoring the signs for too long, and it’s not fair that Lydia has to suffer the consequences for that,” he dismisses easily with a wave of his hand in Scott’s general direction.

Turning back to Ms. Martin, Stiles continues. “I know you’ve seen things you can’t explain in this town. But are you really going to let your determination to live a normal life kill your daughter?”

Ms. Martin goes pale at that. She opens her mouth, then closes it several times.

Scott looks too scared to move. His body is still, but his eyes are darting between the other two, waiting to see who will break the stalemate.

“I don’t believe you,” she whispers.

“Yes, you do,” Stiles counters with a firm nod.

Ms. Martin just shakes her head and looks Stiles in the eye. He can see that flicker of doubt gaining strength on her face.

“Lydia’s just disturbed, she needs help,” she says without conviction.

“Lydia’s a banshee who had her mind violated by a werewolf without her permission, she needs her friends,” Stiles corrects.

Stiles sees her mouth “werewolf” as her eyes turn glassy.

Trembling, she looks between Stiles and Scott. “There’s no such thing as werewolves.”

Stiles spares her a kind smile before addressing Scott. “I think she might need proof.”

“Stiles,” Scott says hesitantly. “I don’t think –.”

“Honestly, I don’t care what you think,” Stiles cuts him off. “I’m trying to save one of the last friends I have left. Show her.”

Hurt crosses Scott’s face, but he shuts his mouth without retort and turns so he’s fully facing Ms. Martin.

His eyes slowly bleed red and he lets his fangs drop down in his mouth. His claws come out with a click and he spreads his hands wide to showcase them.

Ms. Martin is thankfully too shocked to scream, so she just stands there, slack-jawed, and takes in Scott’s appearance.

After several minutes of silence, Scott lets his fangs and claws recede, but keeps his eyes red. 

“She needs to get out of that place, Ms. Martin,” Stiles whispers. “I should have come to you sooner, but I wasn’t in any shape to help myself, let alone anyone else.”

“Werewolves are real,” she asks without inflection.

Scott and Stiles nod.

“My daughter is a banshee.”

They nod again. She shifts her eyes to meet Stiles’.

“It’s hurting her to be in there?” She looks as if the thought of that being true is causing her physical pain.

“Yes,” Stiles tells her firmly. 

Without a word, Ms. Martin grabs her keys and runs for the door. 

Satisfied that at least this is being taken care of, and buzzing with nervous energy leftover from the adrenaline rush he’s been feeling since he stepped foot inside the house, Stiles sighs and makes to follow her out the door so he can drive home, leaving Scott with nothing to do but trail behind them, unsure of what happened.

“I trust you can make it home,” he tells Scott coldly, locking the passenger side door after he’s seated in the jeep.

Scott tries to say something, but Stiles speeds away towards the loft.


	5. A pack thing

Stiles wrenches open the door and collapses on the bed. At this point, the loft smells more like Stiles than Derek, but it’s still comforting.

Stiles pulls out his phone and bites his lip. He looks at the screen and his thumb hovers over the call button by Derek’s name.

Taking a deep breath in, he presses the button.

After one ring, Derek answers. “Is everything ok?”

Stiles smiles in spite of himself. “Hey, man. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Despite the fact that he’s the one who called Derek, Stiles isn’t sure what to say. 

Thankfully, Derek takes the decision out of his hands. “How was your meeting with Scott?”

Stiles thinks for a second before answering. “It was fine.”

“Stiles.”

“Good to know you can still say my name like that,” he deflects.

It works. “Like what?” Derek asks, sidetracked.

“Like it’s a question and a condemnation at the same time.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles smiles. “See, you did it again.”

Derek huffs. “You don’t have to do that. Don’t tell me it was fine when it wasn’t.”

The smile drops off of Stiles’ face. “Yeah, ok,” he concedes after a few seconds.

“So how was it really?”

Stiles shakes his head, knowing Derek can’t see him. “Frustrating. That’s probably the best way to describe it. Scott doesn’t seem to think he did anything wrong by listening to Theo over me. And he still doesn’t know exactly what happened.”

Stiles pauses, waiting for his thoughts to catch up with him. 

“Neither do I, you know,” Derek reminds him. “Not that you have to tell me,” he adds quickly. “I just don’t want you to get ahead of yourself and accidentally say something you aren’t ready to share.”

Stiles bites his lip to keep from whining out loud. The fact that Derek knows Stiles that well is as shocking as it is welcome.

He takes a deep breath before responding. “Thanks, Derek.”

The two sit on the phone for a minute, content to not speak.

“Are you at the loft?” Derek asks tentatively.

Stiles snorts. “Pretty much all the time.”

He can hear the smile in Derek’s reply. “I’m glad. So it’s helping you? At least a little?”

“Dude, it’s helping me a lot. I can’t explain it, I just feel… comfortable and safe here.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek responds immediately. His voice goes soft as he continues. “That’s great, though, Stiles. Good thing I left some of the furniture, I guess.”

Stiles rolls over on the bed so he’s on his stomach. “Yeah, the furniture’s nice. But for some reason – never mind.”

“What is it?”

“Well,” Stiles hesitates. Is it too weird to tell him what comforts him most of all about the loft? Throwing caution to the wind, he does. “It smells like you.”

Derek’s quiet for a second. When he speaks again, Stiles can hear that the smile is back in his voice. “Check the dresser.”

“What?” Stiles frowns, confused. 

“Check the dresser,” Derek repeats.

Stiles groans as he gets off the bed and pads over to the dresser. He opens the top drawer and finds that there are a few items Derek hadn’t packed before he left.

He sees one item in particular and picks it up. “You left some clothes here,” Stiles points out needlessly. “Derek, this one has thumbholes in it.”

Derek laughs, a delightful sound that elicits a grin from Stiles. “Hey, it’s comfortable, ok?”

“Not that I don’t love getting a look into your cozier clothing selections, but why did you direct me here?”

Derek pauses again before responding. “It’s a pack thing,” he says quietly, almost shyly. “The comfort you get from a werewolf’s smell. It’s a pack thing.”

Stiles hums happily. “That makes sense,” he replies, tugging off his shirt and pulling on the oversized sweater.

“It does?” asks Derek, confused.

“Yeah, I’ve thought of you as pack for a while, Derek. That didn’t change when you left.” Stiles blames the adrenaline from his confrontation with Ms. Martin for why he’s suddenly being so open with Derek.

“Me too,” admits Derek quietly.

Stiles clears his throat and hastens to change the subject. “So how are the renovations coming?”

The two chat idly for the next hour or so about the cabin, Cora, and school, until Stiles hears a determined knock on the loft door. He says a quick goodbye to Derek with a promise to text him later, and walks over to see who’s there.

He opens the door to find a disheveled Lydia standing in front of him.

She flings her arms around his neck and holds on tightly. Stiles almost lifts her off her feet in his relief, stunned at how comforted he is to see her again.

When they separate, Stiles takes a step back and really looks at her. Her face looks gaunt and her eyes have lost some of their light. Her hair is dull and flat. 

He shakes his head and gathers her up into another, more perfunctory, hug. 

Stiles leads Lydia to the bathroom and hands her a towel. “We have a lot to talk about but first, you need a hot shower. I’ll order us some food.”  
She just nods and disappears into the bathroom. 

Stiles finds some old sweats of Derek’s that look small enough not to fall off her if she rolls them up a few times, and opens the door a crack to leave them on the counter next to an old Beacon Hills Varsity Basketball shirt he’d found in the dresser.

He orders some pizza with extra everything, thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea for either of them to gorge themselves on lots of bread and cheese, and sits down on the couch to text Derek.

Stiles (8:49pm): It was Lydia. She’s showering now, but she looks terrible.

Derek (8:49pm): You can’t blame yourself, Stiles. 

Stiles (8:49pm): Of course I can.

He sends off another text right away so Derek can’t come back with reassurances.

Stiles (8:49pm): I ordered us some food, so I have to go scrounge up some money from my jeep.

Derek (8:50pm): There’s some cash in the coffee table. Dinner’s on me.

Stiles smirks and looks through the drawers of the coffee table. He sees a couple of twenties folded around some ones and celebrates silently with a fist bump.

Stiles (8:51pm): Found it! Thanks, man.

Derek (8:51pm): No problem. Enjoy your time with Lydia.

Stiles sits back and tosses his phone lazily to the other side of the couch. He wonders briefly if he should text Scott and let him know Lydia’s out, but he figures if Lydia wants him to know, she’ll say so.

The food arrives in record time, probably because the delivery girls all remember how hot the loft’s previous tenant was and are chomping at the bit to see if he’s back.

Stiles stifles a laugh at the visible disappointment on the poor girl’s face when she sees Stiles come to the door and not Derek. He pays for the pizza and has just started plating it when Lydia comes out of the bathroom.


	6. You should go

The difference in Lydia’s appearance post-shower is staggering. She still looks smaller than she should, but a little bit of the glow is back in her face.

She curls up on the couch, tossing her damp hair over her shoulder, and averts her eyes from Stiles’ searching gaze.

Stiles grabs a plate and walks over to the couch, taking a seat near Lydia, but not directly next to her.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks her gently.

Lydia shakes her head. “Not right now. Maybe never.”

He gets that.

Lydia nibbles on the pizza and looks at Stiles nervously. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles takes a big bite so he doesn’t have to answer right away. “Talk about what?”

Stiles sees a little bit of light return to her eyes when she snaps back. “Stiles, don’t play dumb with me. You’re no good at it.”

He chuckles dryly before responding. “No, not really. There’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.”

They sit and talk and eat for the next few hours. Stiles catches her up on what she’s missed at school and with his dad. He tells her about his dad calling Cora and how he himself has been regularly communicating with Derek.

Something settles between the two of them. A comfort you can only get from good friends or family. 

Until a little before 11:00pm when Stiles yawns.

Lydia’s content mood snaps like a twig. She suddenly looks anxious about something that Stiles can’t understand.

“What,” he asks, looking around wildly for anything that might have alarmed her. “What is it?”

“I just – you’re tired. I should go.” 

He frowns at her for a second before he understands. “Lydia, you don’t have to go anywhere.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to see my mom,” she tries to explain quickly. 

“Yes, it is,” Stiles says quietly. “But that’s ok. She didn’t know that what she was doing was harmful, but that doesn’t change the fact that she was the one who sent you to Eichen.”

And just like that, the dam breaks. Lydia’s body is wracked with sobs and Stiles lurches forward to hold her, trying desperately to offer her any comfort he can.

She clings to him like a lifeline as she struggles to simultaneously breathe and wail, grasping Derek’s sweater in her hands and not letting go.

Getting an idea, Stiles repositions Lydia so that she is curled in on herself, with her knees by her face. Her head subconsciously turns into the bottom of Derek’s sweats that she had rolled up her calf, and her eyes widen when she takes in the scent.

“What – what is that?” She hiccups.

Stiles grins and holds her a little tighter.

“Derek says the scent of pack is supposed to be comforting,” Stiles whispers into her hair.

Lydia wipes her face with the back of her hand before reattaching her grip to Stiles’ shoulders. “But I’m in Scott’s pack.”

“Are you?” Stiles asks, attempting to remove all biased inflection from his voice. 

Lydia is quiet for a few minutes while her breathing goes back to normal and the tears stop streaming down her cheeks. She lays her head on Stiles’ chest and closes her eyes. “No. I don’t think I am.”

They end up curled together in Derek’s bed, their legs tangled and Lydia’s hair swept haphazardly over Stiles’ face. Thankfully, Spring Break has just started, so they have a week before Lydia has to reintegrate herself into society. So for now, they sleep.

On the third day of the break, Scott visits the loft. Lydia is still in bed sleeping, so Stiles pads over to the door, wearing nothing but a pair of old sweatpants.

Scott’s eyes widen as he takes in Stiles’ torso. The weight he lost during the past several months really makes itself known in the form of lost muscle definition, of which Stiles didn’t have a plethora to begin with.

“Is she here?” Scott demands, brushing brusquely past Stiles into the loft. 

“By all means, come in,” Stiles responds dryly, leaving the door open. He follows Scott to the living room and crosses his arms. “She’s sleeping, Scott. Let her rest.”

Scott takes one look at Lydia’s sleeping form and rounds on Stiles. “How could you not tell me she was out? I had to find out from Kira, who only knows because administration told the faculty today that Lydia would be returning to school on Monday.”

Stiles shakes his head and rolls his eyes, plopping down on the couch wearily. “She never asked me to tell you. And I wasn’t going to go out of my way to do so on my own.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Stiles?” Scott flashes his eyes red and grimaces to avoid unsheathing his claws.

Stiles, who is past caring about Scott’s posturing, and is no longer scared of werewolves, just sighs sadly.

“You want to know what’s wrong with me? Let’s set aside the fact that I’ve been fighting supernatural creatures who tried to kill my friends for the last two years. Or that I’ve been possessed by an evil fox spirit that made me kill countless people, including two of my friends. I’ve had guns pointed at my head more times than I can count, which is something no seventeen year old should ever be able to say. I’ve faced down kanimas, werewolves, hunters, assassins, resurrected psychopaths – plural, Scott – werejaguars, berserkers, chimeras, crazy immortal doctors, and I don’t know what else.”

Stiles’ chest is heaving when he pauses. “But do you know what the worst part is?”

He looks down and gathers his strength before looking Scott straight in the eyes. “None of that was enough for you to give me the benefit of the doubt when Theo told you I had murdered Donovan in cold blood.”

“You did murder Donovan in cold blood! There was blood on the wrench you beat him to death with. How else was I supposed to explain that?” Scott shouts mutinously. 

The two were both startled by the sound of the loft door sliding closed. Lydia had woken up at some point during their shouting match and had clearly decided that this should remain a private conversation.

She walks over to the couch and sits next to Stiles, not acknowledging Scott’s presence. “You don’t need to tell him,” she says quietly, placing her hand on his arm.

Stiles grips her hand briefly and turns his attention back to Scott. “I know, but I’m going to.”

He steels himself before launching back into it. “You know how you were supposed to explain it, Scott? You weren’t. You were supposed to ask me. To talk with me about it. Not stand outside the animal clinic in the pouring rain, shouting about how I’d killed someone.”

Scott is still frowning stubbornly.

Stiles forges ahead. “Did you ever stop and think that maybe me killing someone was worse for me than it was for you? No. Because to you, I’d killed someone and that was it. You let Theo give you a boost up onto your high horse and then just shouted down at me from above. Do you even want to know what really happened?” 

If it wasn’t for Lydia holding his hands, Stiles knows they would be shaking.

“I know what really happened,” Scott grits out.

“Jesus, Scott, will you let him speak?” Lydia’s harsh voice startles Scott enough for him to nod reluctantly in Stiles’ direction. 

Stiles closes his eyes for a second and leans into Lydia subconsciously. She moves her hand to his back and starts to rub soothing circles over his skin.

“I was at the school late and my jeep wouldn’t start. I had the hood open and was using the wrench to try and tighten some bolts when I felt a horrible pain in my shoulder.” He stops and rubs his shoulder where Donovan’s mouth had ripped into him. 

Lydia looks at the spot curiously and notices a circular scar that hadn’t been there last year.

“I turned around and saw Donovan. He looked almost feral,” Stiles continues, his eyes unfocused and far away. “I hit him with the wrench, which is how it got his blood on it, and ran back into the library. He followed me and was yelling about how he was going to eat my legs and kill my dad. My dad, Scott,” Stiles whimpers. 

Lydia continues rubbing circles on his back and hooks her chin over his shoulder.

Stiles takes a deep breath and refocuses his eyes on Scott. “They were doing some construction, so I climbed up the scaffolding to try and get away from him, but he followed me up. There was this pin holding some rebar together close to the top.” Stiles’ breathing becomes more and more jagged as he speaks, prompting Scott to frown in concern and start walking towards the two on the couch.

Stiles holds his hand out for Scott to stay where he is. Thankfully, Scott complies.

“I just wanted to slow him down or knock him out. I was terrified,” Stiles whispers, working hard to control his breathing so he could finish his story. “But when I pulled the pin, one of the pipes went right through him. He was dead before I could even look down to see what had happened.”

The tears he’s been holding back come streaming down his face. He tries to wipe them away, but they slip past his hands.

Scott is silent for a moment. When he opens his mouth to speak, Lydia interrupts him.

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘why didn’t you tell me,’ I will hurt you, Scott McCall,” she promises venomously. 

Scott’s mouth closes with an audible click.

“You should go,” she says more kindly, gripping Stiles tightly as if to protect him from the world. “There’s nothing you can do here that won’t make things worse.”

Scott looks like he wants to argue, but instead he says nothing and walks out of the loft with his head hung low.


	7. A story

Lydia leads Stiles to the bed and positions them so that she’s sitting up against the headboard and Stiles is lying down with his head in her lap. 

She grabs Stiles’ cell phone from the bedside table and makes a call.

“Derek?” she asks when he answers.

“Lydia? Is everything ok?” Stiles can hear the confusion in his voice.

Lydia puts the phone on speaker and lays it on her leg by Stiles’ head.

“I’m here, Der,” Stiles says softly. “Scott just visited us at the loft,” he adds after a short pause.

“Oh,” offered Derek.

There’s silence from the three of them as they try to figure out the best way to make themselves feel better. 

“Hey, Derek,” comes Lydia’s voice hesitantly. “Can you tell us a story?”

Derek sighs happily and launches into a story his mother used to tell him about himself when he was only two years old. He had been very attached to his parents at that time, to the point where he would climb out of his crib a dozen times a night to sneak into their room and try to sleep with them. It had gotten so bad, they were considering turning the crib upside down so he couldn’t get out (they had read somewhere that pediatricians recommended this method for kids like Derek, but they personally thought it was a little inhumane).

One night in particular, his parents were trying to watch a movie in bed when they heard the door creak open for the twentieth time that night. His mom had sighed and moved to get out of bed and bring Derek back into his room when she and his dad noticed that Derek was walking in backwards. 

Apparently he was under the impression that if his parents saw his back and thought he was leaving, they wouldn’t feel the need to get up and bring him back to his room. He walked backwards all the way over to the front of the bed, where he sat down on the floor and looked up, enraptured, at the television. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his little head to see if they had noticed him, only to find his parents in silent hysterics.

His dad had scooped him up onto the bed and let him finish the movie with them, by which time he was fast asleep anyway.

When Derek finishes his story, Stiles is surprised to find that he and Lydia are both laughing. The laughter seems to break whatever leftover tension they had been feeling since Scott came over, so Stiles stands up and starts preparing lunch, leaving Lydia and Derek to converse quietly.

The two hang up right as Stiles finishes making them sandwiches, and they eat in companionable silence. Stiles is already exhausted and it’s barely past noon. 

He’s sitting on the couch finishing off his sandwich when he notices that Lydia is eyeing him speculatively. 

“What?” He croaks. His voice still isn’t back to full strength, and he spent a lot of the morning talking.

Lydia raises an eyebrow accusingly. “Derek, huh?”

Stiles just leans back into the couch, too tired to put up a front. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s all very confusing and I just want to nap.”

Lydia chuckles, but doesn’t push the issue. She puts her plate down and curls up next to Stiles, finding a comfortable spot and falling asleep with him.

The Sheriff comes to visit the next day with interesting news.

Stiles and Lydia sit up straight, both opening and closing their mouths several times with no sound coming out. 

Stiles blindly grabs Lydia’s hand and swallows nervously. “Can you repeat that?”

His dad smiles at him indulgently and says again, “I spoke with your principal yesterday and explained a few things about the last couple of months. Nothing supernatural, of course, but you’ve both been through quite a lot aside from that.”

Lydia was nodding absently, still absorbing what the Sheriff had said before.

“He and I have agreed that the two of you can take your final exams early and have your diplomas mailed to you.”

“When?” Stiles asks hoarsely.

“A week from Saturday,” he responds with a grin. “He’s going to talk with your teachers when they resume classes on Monday, but he’s not expecting any arguments from them. Both of you have perfect grades. In fact, he was most concerned about who the new valedictorian was going to be, now that you two are out of the running.”

“You’re serious,” Lydia confirms softly.

His dad nods, waiting for it to sink in with the two of them.

He’s still surprised, though, when they both simultaneously launch themselves at him, nearly tackling him to the floor in their enthusiasm. 

John scoops the two up into his arms and beams down at them.

“What? Why are you looking at us like that?” Stiles asks when they step back.

His dad just shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I’m just glad to see that you’re both doing better.”

John gets another tight hug a few seconds later when he tells Lydia that he has a suitcase full of her clothes down in his car. Stiles smirks and runs down to grab it from the cruiser, happy that Lydia won’t have to go home and get her things herself.

The Sheriff stays for dinner, and the three of them chat happily for a while, reveling in the new feeling of freedom that has taken on an almost palpable form in the loft.


	8. Not yet

As soon as his dad leaves for the night, Stiles calls Derek to tell him the news. 

“That’s great, Stiles,” Derek congratulates him genuinely. 

Stiles lays down on the bed with a plop and watches Lydia start to unpack her clothes.

He’s chatting with Derek about Derek’s noisy neighbor again when he hears a strange sound on the other side of the phone.

“What was that?” Stiles asks suspiciously.

“I, uh. I got a dog,” Derek admits bashfully.

Stiles pouts silently. “And you haven’t sent me any pictures?!”

“I didn’t know that was a thing,” replies Derek, confused.

Stiles puts the phone on speaker. “Lydia, tell Derek that we’re pack, and pack means sending each other pictures of their pets.”

“We’re pack, and pack means sending each other pictures of their pets,” Lydia recites dutifully while folding her jeans.

“You’ve never sent me a picture of a pet, Stiles,” counters Derek. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“Hey, I sent you the picture of that animal I saw on the sidewalk a few weeks ago,” says Stiles indignantly, nervously casting a side glance at Lydia.

Derek pauses while he tries to recall what Stiles is referencing. “Oh my god, Stiles, are you talking about the picture of the lizard you sent me with the caption ‘Found Jackson’?”

Lydia scoffs and throws one of her shirts at Stiles’ head in retaliation.

“Yup,” says Stiles, grabbing the shirt from the air before it hits him and tossing it back at Lydia.

“Fine,” Derek concedes. 

There’s a pause while Derek is presumably either taking a picture or pulling one from his camera roll. Stiles hears his phone ping and pulls up his messages so he can investigate.

The picture was clearly taken by someone else. Stiles feels a pang of jealousy at the thought of Derek letting someone take a picture of himself in such a vulnerable state, before he reins himself in.

In the photo, Derek is laying down on the couch wearing sweats and nothing else. There’s a chocolate lab puppy curled up on his bare chest, fast asleep.

Stiles and Lydia both coo at the sight.

After they hang up a few minutes later, Lydia rounds on Stiles and points to herself. “I was cooing at the dog.” She raises her eyebrows accusingly. 

“… So was I?” he insists half-heartedly. 

“Stiles –” she begins with a sigh.

“It doesn’t matter, Lyds,” he interrupts, leaning back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

Lydia walks over to the bed and sits down next to him. After a second of consideration, she lays down beside Stiles and stares at the ceiling as well.

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

Stiles takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out of his mouth with a huff. “Because Derek Hale deserves the world. He…”

He trails off to gather his thoughts. Lydia intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand.

“He deserves the world,” Stiles continues quietly. “He’s been through so much, I just can’t… His childhood was torn from him. His first pack died, his second pack died, his current pack is us, which isn’t really a marked improvement.”

Stiles runs his free hand over his face and closes his eyes. “Derek should be in a relationship with someone who will cherish him and is good for him. And I’m so broken right now, there’s no way that person could be me. And that’s assuming he would even want to be with me, which is doubtful.”

Lydia snorts, but her face grows somber quickly. They both lay in silence, absorbing Stiles’ words, until Lydia breaks it.

“Stiles, do you know why I’m so angry with my mother?” She begins hesitantly, eyes locked on the ceiling.

Without waiting for him to respond, she continues. “Because she tried to fix me without first trying to figure out what had broken me. You’ve cared about Derek for almost two years now, don’t deny it. And in that time, you have learned exactly how and why he’s broken. How can someone who loves him that much and in that way not be good for him?”

He struggles to find a response, but is saved from having to speak by Lydia continuing rapidly. “You’re both broken, Stiles. And believe it or not, he cares about you enough and has paid enough attention to know how you’re broken too.” She sits up on her side, her hand still holding his, and looks him in the face. “Are you really telling me you don’t think you’d be good for one another? Not to fix each other, but to help you both fix yourselves?”

A tear escapes Stiles’ eye before he can catch it, and he doesn’t bother wiping it away. “You might be right,” he concedes. “But not yet.”

“No,” she agrees, tightening her grip on his hand. “Not yet.”

After that night, Stiles and Lydia lose themselves in their studying. The Sheriff brings by all their study material, but preparing to take all your finals in one day with only a week to prepare is no easy feat. But as two people who have spent the last two years pulling all-nighters to study whatever monster of the week the pack had been facing at the time AND maintaining top marks at school, cramming for finals is going to be a piece of cake.

Their teachers sign off on the principal’s decision, and soon the day of the test is upon them. They wake up early in order to stop by the local coffee shop, which is Lydia’s first real excursion outside around society since her release. 

Stiles holds the door for her and nearly runs into her back before he realizes that she has stopped in the doorway. 

He looks over her shoulder and sees that most of the shop’s patrons have stopped what they were doing and are openly gawking at her.

“You can wait in the car if you want,” he whispers into her ear, putting a hand on her shoulder gently.

Lydia shakes herself out of her stupor and holds her head up high. “I’m ok,” she insists, walking forward and taking her place in line.

Stiles holds her hand through the line and throughout her order. Outwardly, she seems confident and self-assured, but Stiles is struggling not to pull his hand away because of how tightly she’s gripping it.

They muddle through the walk out of the shop and back to the car. When they’re both seated in the jeep, Stiles turns to Lydia with a questioning look.

She takes a few deep breaths and swallows hard. “That sucked,” she says lightly.

Stiles just chuckles and grips her elbow briefly before starting the car and heading to the school. Thankfully it’s a Saturday, so the parking lot is nearly deserted and there are no students at the school.

They walk through the parking lot to the main office, where their principal is waiting for them.

Outside the safety of the loft, Stiles’ nerves and anxiety are on a hair trigger. He feels like the slightest thing might set off a panic attack, so he focuses on his breathing and lets Lydia take the lead on talking to their principal.

“Thank you so much for this consideration, Mr. Glass,” she says, oozing charm. 

He smiles kindly at them. “Not at all, Lydia. If the two of you would follow me, I have your exams waiting for you in the library.”

Stiles, who had turned to follow Mr. Glass, stops short. “The – the library?” he stutters. 

Mr. Glass stops walking and frowns. “Yes, Stiles, is that a problem?”

He is saved from answering by Lydia. “Would you mind if we took our exams in a classroom? Any classroom will do.”

Mr. Glass squints at the two of them in confusion, but concedes. “Of course, follow me.”

Stiles shoots Lydia a grateful nod and attempts a smile. There’s no way he could have gotten through his exams while in the room where Donovan died.

The day goes by surprisingly quickly, with both Stiles and Lydia flying through each exam in their own way. Lydia reads each question and answers it in her head before reading through the options listed, while Stiles whizzes through the questions on the first go-round, then meticulously re-reads them for accuracy on the second.

They end up finishing around the same time. They each thank Mr. Glass again, then wait patiently while he runs the answers. The Sheriff had to do a little sweet talking to get the principal to agree to let them know right away if they’d passed, but he knew they would both be nervous wrecks until the results were released if they had to wait.


	9. Glorious

“Flying colors,” Mr. Glass announces with a flourish when he reenters the room with their results. 

Stiles and Lydia grin at each other before assaulting Mr. Glass with questions about each exam.

He silences them with a raised hand and a laugh. “Yes, Sheriff Stilinski said you might do that. Here,” he hands them both their exams and the answer sheets. “So you can compare later.”

They beam at him and thank him one last time before exiting the school. Stiles can’t help but breathe a little easier now that his high school career is quite literally behind him.

“Did you feel that?” Lydia asks once they’re in the car. “That feeling when we walked out the front doors?”

Stiles nods. “You mean the feeling like it was for the last time?”

“Yeah,” Lydia confirms, closing her eyes and letting her head rest against the back of her seat. Her shoulders slump in relief as the stress of the last week, and the last few months starts to drain out of her.

There’s still some tension in both of them, but it is enough for now to feel things getting better, even gradually.

They return to the loft to find the Sheriff waiting outside with a giddy smile. “Mr. Glass called me with your results just now. Congratulations, both of you.” He sweeps Stiles up in a bear hug and surprises Lydia by embracing her as well once Stiles steps back.

“I have one more surprise for each of you,” he announces, releasing Lydia. He hands both of them envelopes. Inside each envelope are their college acceptance letters.

Stiles’ also contains some cash, and Lydia’s contains a credit card with a note in her mom’s handwriting that says the card is connected to her savings account, which is not unsubstantial.

John pops open the trunk of his car and pulls out a few bags Lydia recognizes as hers. “Are those all of my things?”

The Sheriff nods and starts pulling more bags out of his back seat. “And all of yours, Stiles.”

Without a word, he starts packing them up into the jeep, ignoring Stiles and Lydia’s twin looks of shock and confusion.

“Lydia, I talked to your mom already, and she agrees with me. It’s time for the two of you to leave Beacon Hills.”

Stiles and Lydia just stare at him, dumbfounded. Stiles blinks a few times before clearing his throat and attempting to talk. 

When he can’t, Lydia speaks up for the both of them. “We’re leaving?” There is no inflection in her voice, as if she can’t stand to sound hopeful in case she is somehow misinterpreting the situation and is wrong.

The Sheriff nods at them. “Yes, you’re leaving. As soon as possible, too.”

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. When he lets it out, he is happy to feel more of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

He opens his eyes and blinks back tears. “Where are we going?” He asks his father softly.

“That’s up to you, son,” he replies in a tone of voice that suggests he already knows where they will be heading.

Stiles meets Lydia’s eyes shyly.

“Minnesota,” they both say at the same time.

John laughs at the two of them as they exchange looks of surprise.

“How do you know where Derek is?” Lydia smiles through her question, stepping towards Stiles involuntarily. 

Stiles just shakes his head incredulously. “I hacked into the police database and local traffic cams on my laptop and have been tracking his car since he left. You?”

Lydia smirks, “I downloaded a GPS tracking app onto his phone about a month before he left. I figured he’d be leaving and I guess I wanted to keep an eye on him.”

John looks towards the sky. “My little criminals. I’m so proud.” He finishes packing the jeep and takes in the sight of Stiles and Lydia standing in the middle of the parking lot, unsure of what to do.

“Anyone you want to say goodbye to before you leave?” he asks them, striding over to where they’re standing. 

Stiles shakes his head and looks over at Lydia. She’s hunched in on herself and is looking down at her feet. 

Stiles ducks his head and tries to meet Lydia’s eyes. He can see that she’s biting her lip and is clearly warring with herself over her decision.

“Let’s go, Lydia. We can stop by your house on the way so you can see her,” Stiles says gently, taking her hand.

She nods and follows him to the car. Before she gets in, she turns and wraps her arms around the Sheriff tightly. He responds in kind and gives her a quick squeeze. “Take care of yourself, kiddo,” he tells her as he lets go.

She gives him a silent smile and opens the door to the jeep. 

Stiles takes a deep breath, letting more tension ease out of his body on the exhale. He turns to his father and is at a loss for words.

His dad smiles sadly at him and walks forward determinedly to embrace Stiles.

Stiles’ arms engulf his dad firmly as he tries to put all of his love and gratitude into one hug. They stay like that for several minutes, until they are both satisfied.

John’s hand stays on Stiles’ shoulder when they separate. “I love you, Stiles. You know that, right?”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “I have never been so sure of anything in my life, Dad. I really don’t deserve you.”

The Sheriff smiles warmly. “You’ve got that backwards, kid. Call me when you stop for the night.”

Stiles nods and joins Lydia in the car. They exchange cautiously optimistic smiles as Stiles starts the car.

Lydia’s goodbye with her mother is short and tearful. Ms. Martin clings to her daughter desperately, but Stiles sees her close her eyes in relief when the two separate. He can only imagine how guilty she feels for putting Lydia through all that pain at Eichen, only to learn that it was all for nothing.

Lydia tells her mom she forgives her, because it’s what she needs to hear. But they both know real forgiveness will take time.

They stock up on chips, coffee, Red Bull, beef jerky, and other road trip essentials – according to Stiles, anyway – and hit the road.

It’s not until they are passing the You Are Now Leaving Beacon Hills sign that Stiles fully appreciates exactly what is happening. One look at Lydia’s face tells him he isn’t alone there.

A sudden giggle escapes Lydia’s mouth. She claps her hands over her face to stifle her laughter, but her shoulders are shaking. 

Stiles looks on in wonder before joining her. The tension in his back, his shoulders, all the way to his toes, slowly leaves his body.

For a few minutes, the only noise other than the pavement beneath the tires is laughter, and it is glorious.

It’s not a cure by any means, for the trauma they have endured, or the emotional scars they still carry, but it’s a gigantic step in the right direction.


	10. You're enabling me

There are long stretches of silence during their drive, but neither of them minds. Lydia didn’t do much talking in Eichen, and Stiles is still getting used to having full conversations. 

Stiles only has to pull over once to get his breathing under control; just after they pass a sign for an old campground that he used to go to with his parents before his mom died. Lydia dials the Sheriff and he is able to talk Stiles down from a full blown panic attack. 

Lydia has one moment of uncertainty around the time they cross from Idaho into Wyoming, which manifests itself in a quiet bout of tears.

Stiles holds her hand silently throughout, until Lydia falls asleep.

They stop for the night in Casper, Wyoming. Stiles has a short conversation with his dad and then collapses onto the bed. He and Lydia climb under the covers and face each other with Stiles’ phone in between them. Stiles unlocks the phone and hits the call button next to Derek’s name.

“Finally calling to let me know my house is about to be invaded?” Derek answers without preamble. There’s a happiness in Derek’s voice that causes Stiles to smile involuntarily.

“My dad gave you the head’s up, huh?” Stiles replied, closing his eyes sleepily.

“He did. How far away are you guys?”

Stiles is yawning, so it’s Lydia who responds. “About 12 hours. We made good time today switching off, so we should be able to make it by tomorrow night if we get an early start in the morning.”

Stiles hums in agreement, already falling asleep.

“Ok, well I’ll let you guys get some rest. Let me know when you get on the road tomorrow,” Derek says.

They hang up and are both asleep in minutes. 

Stiles wakes up to an alarm Lydia must have set on his phone. It takes him a moment to figure out why his mouth is curled up into a smile and he feels energized. When he realizes it’s because Derek is only a day’s drive away, his smile turns into a full grin.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmurs to the snoozing banshee.

Lydia pouts in her sleep and groans in protest. One of the things Stiles has been delighted to learn about her is how much of a morning person she is not.

After considering his options, Stiles decides that the only thing to do is to jump on her.

He keeps his weight on his forearms and does just that, prompting a sleepy laugh from the girl.

“Up, up!” He says, jostling her lightly. He plants a smacking kiss on her forehead and carefully gets off the bed to jump in the shower while Lydia returns to consciousness.

After they shower and change, the two hit the road before the sun is fully up. Lydia is slumped down in the passenger seat clinging to her hotel coffee like a lifeline, growling impressively at Stiles whenever he makes a noise or tries to talk to her.

About an hour later when Lydia starts to resemble something human, she turns a wry eye on Stiles.

“You sure were eager to get on the road this morning,” she says, taking an accusatory sip of her now-cold coffee.

He sends a mock glare in her direction, but the corners of his mouth can’t help but turn up into a small smile again. He really is excited to see Derek.

“You’re the one who set the alarm. You’re enabling me,” he shoots back at her.

They drive in silence for another hour, enjoying the openness of the highway.

When they stop for gas and switch drivers – thankfully, Lydia’s dad had refused to buy her an automatic car before she proved she could drive a manual – Lydia breaks the silent streak. “What are you going to miss most about Beacon Hills? Aside from your dad.”

She keeps her eyes on the road as she talks, clearly a little worried about how her question will be received. 

Stiles reaches over and squeezes her forearm reassuringly. “Probably Melissa,” he responds after a few seconds. “She stepped in after my mom died and even though…” Stiles swallows. “Even though we haven’t spoken in months, that’s something I’ll never be able to fully thank her for.”

He’s quiet for a moment while he collects his thoughts. “Even now, I think if I needed her, she’d be there for me.”

Lydia sends him a smile. “I think she would.”

Stiles clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “What about you? Besides your mom.”

Lydia cocks her head to the side and considers the question. “Honestly? Probably your dad. He’s just… he’s always there for you and I really admire that. And he’s the only one who really went to bat for me when my mom sent me to Eichen. He tried hard to get me out, and it was nice to have someone like him in my corner.”

Stiles hums happily as she elaborates.

“I mean, you know my relationship with my dad has never been great. And I love my mother…” Lydia trails off guiltily. She looks at Stiles out of the corner of her eye and sees him give her an encouraging nod to continue.

“When Ally was still alive, I spent a lot of time at her place. Mr. Argent said there was always room for me with them, and that felt nice, you know? But then he left after the Nogitsune,” Lydia’s voice is no louder than a whisper at this point. Any softer and Stiles would have to lean in to hear her. “But your dad, he’s always there. And he looked out for me when he didn’t have to. I guess I’m just going to miss that.”

Stiles reaches out for her hand and intertwines their fingers. For the next half hour, Lydia only lets go to change the song on the radio or shift gears.

As the sun sets, Stiles takes out his phone and texts Derek to let him know they’ll be arriving in about two hours.

Derek (6:49pm): Good, I’m excited for you two to meet Lo.

Stiles stomach plummets. Lydia, who notices the mood change immediately, reaches for Stiles’ phone when they pull up to a red light.

She frowns at the message. “Who’s Lo?” 

Stiles just shakes his head. “Did he tell you he was seeing anyone?”

Before Stiles realizes what she’s doing, Lydia has already sent a text to Derek asking for more information. She snorts when she reads his response. “It’s his puppy, dumbass.”

A hysterical bubble of relieved laughter escapes him before he can reel it back in. “Oh.”

Exhausted and hungry, Stiles is pleased for more than one reason when the GPS says they are only five minutes away. They pull off the main road onto a winding gravel one, and Stiles smiles to himself at the thought of Derek picking this place because he’d be able to hear anyone coming from miles away.

Lydia parks the car in a roundabout driveway in front of a well-lit, modern style cabin. The door is painted bright red, and there is a wrap around back porch peeking out beyond the trees. 

Stiles feels a calming weight settle in his chest when he takes in the whole property. This place absolutely screams Derek.


	11. You look good

Stiles hears the car door behind Lydia shut and realizes he’s just sitting in the jeep, staring at the house. 

He climbs out of the car and looks towards the front door again, only to find it open this time.

Derek is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. For a moment, Stiles has a flashback to when he first saw Derek in Beacon Hills; cold and defensive in the same stance, and Stiles can’t help but compare the past image with the one standing before him. Stiles swallows as he takes in Derek’s appearance. He has grown out his beard and if Stiles squints, he can just barely make out laugh lines around the man’s eyes.

There is a soft smile on Derek’s face that seems so out of character, Stiles can’t help but stare at it.

Stiles is shaken out of his reverie by a thump as something runs into his shins. He looks down and sees a small chocolate lab staring up at him with its head cocked to the side.

Stiles smiles and crouches down to scratch the pup behind the ears, eliciting a happy pant from the dog.

He hears Lydia and Derek talking and looks up to find them hugging. Lydia looks like she’s going in for a perfunctory hug, but relaxes into Derek’s encompassing embrace, turning her head towards his neck and staying there for a few seconds. 

Derek gives her one last squeeze, then lets her go. Lydia starts to bring the first round of her bags into the house as Derek walks over towards Stiles and Lo.

“Lo, huh?” Stiles says, rising to his feet.

Derek nods, still smiling softly. “After Laura. It’s what we used to call her when we were little.”

Lydia sweeps back towards the jeep’s trunk, talking as she goes. “You haven’t told us much about Laura, but I feel confident that she’d want me to do this,” she suddenly whacks Derek on the back of the head without breaking stride, “For giving her name to a dog.”

Derek laughs and Stiles’ eyes glaze over at the sound. “That’s exactly what she would have done,” he tells Lydia’s retreating form fondly.

Derek turns his attention back towards Stiles and takes a step forward to lessen the gap between them.

Stiles takes a deep breath and walks right into Derek’s arms instinctively, whining lowly when the man’s scent hits him. He wraps himself around Derek, not wanting to leave any room between the two of them. 

Derek responds in kind, draping his arms around Stiles’ shoulders and nuzzling his face into Stiles’ neck, inhaling greedily.

They stay like that at least long enough for Lydia to get all of her things from the jeep into the house. When they separate, Stiles takes another deep breath and closes his eyes. He hadn’t realized how much stress he still holds in his body until it really starts to dissipate.

Stiles looks around to get his bearings and finds himself feeling more grounded than he has in almost a year. The scent of the trees is similar to that of the Preserve, but fresher somehow. Less filled with death and bad memories.

The earth seems richer and more full of life. The cabin is homey and sturdy and gives Stiles the feeling of a fresh start.

He sighs and starts to unload his old life from the jeep. He finds himself smiling as he crosses the threshold into the cabin. 

There is a large kitchen with an island off to the right and a living room to the left. In between the two is a dining area with a sliding glass door to the back deck. There is a dip in the floor by the living room that leads to a reading nook with a window bench next to the bookshelf.

There is an open staircase to the left of the front entryway, leading down. Stiles looks around and sees Derek bringing some of Lydia’s things down the stairs, so he follows them with his suitcases. 

There is a pool table in the main area, next to some couches pointed at a large television by another sliding glass door to the outside. The cabin is on a hill, and Stiles can just barely see a lake through the dark. Stiles sees two bedrooms off to the right and one to the left. There is another room to the left that looks like Derek’s office.

Derek is bringing Lydia’s things into the room on the left, so Stiles leaves his bags outside the doors to the right, assuming one of those will be his room, and heads back up to get the rest of his things.

When he returns downstairs, Lydia is unpacking her belongings and Derek has brought Stiles’ into the first bedroom on the right.

Stiles enters and takes a look around. The room is painted bright red with black and white bedding and artwork on the walls. He gives the room an approving nod and looks back towards the dresser to see Derek regarding him curiously.

“It this ok?” he asks nervously.

Stiles nods with enthusiasm. “Yeah, this is great.”

“Are you sure? If not, you can have the orange room next door. It’s just, that’s usually where guests crash when they stay over.” Derek shuffles his feet at the last part, which Stiles tries really hard not to find adorable.

Stiles shakes his head and moves towards the bed to heft his suitcase up on top of it. “No, this is perfect. Really, Derek.” 

Derek nods decisively and makes to leave. “You guys are probably starving. I’ll go get started on dinner.”

He places a warm, sturdy hand on Stiles’ shoulder briefly as he leaves the room, eliciting a shudder from the boy, which they both steadfastly ignore.

“Hey, Der?” Stiles calls softly.

Derek takes a step back so he’s standing in the doorway. He raises an eyebrow in question.

Stiles gives him a soft smile. “This place suits you. You – you look good,” he offers with a shrug, missing nonchalant by quite a bit.

Derek ducks his head to hide a grin. Stiles catches a glimpse of a blush running down his neck and has to immediately avert his gaze to stop himself from staring.

Derek looks at Stiles from under his lashes and opens his mouth to speak. Before he can, his face grows somber and he takes a breath. “You look… exactly how I thought you would.”

Stiles nods grimly in agreement. “Yeah. I guess I do.” 

Derek turns and walks silently back up the stairs to make them all a late dinner while Stiles and Lydia unpack their rooms. After about fifteen minutes, Stiles hears the pitter patter of bare feet just seconds before Lydia makes her presence known in his room. 

She has changed into sweatpants and one of Stiles’ old lacrosse shirts. Stiles spares her a quick smile as she plops down onto his bed.

Lydia is busy texting her mom to let her know they got in ok, so Stiles doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He has just started unpacking his non-clothing items when he hears Derek call down the stairs that dinner is ready.

He shoots off a text to his dad and reaches his hand out towards Lydia instinctively. She grabs it and they walk hand in hand up the stairs towards the mouth watering scent waiting for them on the dining room table.

Stiles stops short, accidentally pulling Lydia to a stop as well. 

“What?” she hisses under her breath, looking at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Derek’s wearing an apron.” Stiles wheezes.

Lydia looks over into the kitchen and sees Derek with his back to them, putting some dishes into the sink. He is, in fact, wearing frilly lime green monstrosity of an apron.

She rolls her eyes and tugs on Stiles’ hand to force him to start walking again. They take seats on either side of the head of the table right as Derek joins them from the kitchen.


	12. Something to think about

“It’s not much, but it’s food,” Derek says self-deprecatingly, setting the glass serving dish down on the table.

The enticing aroma redirects Stiles’ attention from the apron Derek is still wearing, to the food Derek has started plating for him and Lydia.

“You can cook,” Stiles accuses, squinting at Derek suspiciously. “How come you never cooked before?”

Lydia levels him with an unimpressed glare and digs in, not quite catching a moan as the forkful hits her tongue. “Stiles, leave Derek alone and try this.”

Stiles relents, cutting a piece of the chicken and sticking it in his mouth warily. His eyes widen as he swallows. “Oh my god, this is incredible.”

Derek ducks his head. “It just chicken parm,” he manages through a blush.

“Derek, seriously, this is amazing,” Stiles insists.

The wolf preens at the praise and breathes out contentedly. 

They finish their meal quietly, mostly still basking in the realization that they are all there together.

Throughout the meal, Stiles feels a pleasant buzzing sensation under his skin that he’s sure is a result of being near Derek. He does his best to keep his heartbeat under control, but if he fails, Derek doesn’t mention it.

Lydia sends him one knowing look at the beginning of dinner, but leaves him alone after that.

Derek stands up to do the dishes once they’re all finished, but Lydia jumps up and begins to clear the table before he can. “You cooked,” she reminds him.

Lydia and Stiles take this opportunity to familiarize themselves with the kitchen.

Once the dishes are done, the three of them make their way to the living room. Derek sits down in what looks to be his favorite seat – an armchair by the window. 

He’s facing the couch where Lydia and Stiles sit, closer together than two friends usually choose to be, but it’s comfortable for them.

Even though Stiles and Lydia have been driving for two days and are exhausted, the three of them talk for hours. 

They talk about Lydia’s mom and Stiles’ dad. About Cora, and even about Derek having reached out to Jackson in England. Lydia talks about Eichen House for the first time since she was released.

Stiles holds her hand through it and at one point, Derek crouches in front of her and grips the back of her neck, which causes her to nearly collapse in relief. 

Derek growls when Lydia recounts one incident in particular involving one of the meanest orderlies, and Stiles takes a second to be thankful once again that they are out of Beacon Hills.

Lydia breaks down into tears at the end of her story, prompting Derek to sit on her other side and hold her loosely until she’s done.

Derek and Stiles’ eyes meet over Lydia and they both smile fondly when they realize she has fallen asleep in Derek’s arms. Derek scoops her up and brings her downstairs, tucking her in before rejoining Stiles on the main floor.

Stiles expects Derek to return to the living room, but is surprised when he heads for the kitchen instead. After a few minutes, Derek joins Stiles on the couch with two mugs in his hands. 

He sets one down on the coffee table in front of Stiles and grips the other one with both of his hands.

Stiles quirks an eyebrow at the wolf, and smiles when he realizes that Derek has brought him warm milk.

Derek lowers his eyes uncertainly and whispers, “It’s what my mom used to make me when I couldn’t sleep.”

Stiles heart skips a beat, causing Derek to look up. Stiles averts his eyes quickly and picks up the mug. He takes a sip and closes his eyes happily.

“Thanks, Der,” he says, still smiling.

He opens his eyes and sees Derek staring at him with an unreadable look on his face. 

“What?”

Derek shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m just… happy you’re here.”

Before Stiles can respond, he is interrupted by Lo jumping up onto his lap.

Derek laughs. “She likes you,” he comments as Lo licks Stiles’ face.

Stiles tries to dodge the assault of kisses, but gives up with a laugh of his own. “Well at least one of the Hales had to like me right away, right?”

Derek stops laughing but smiles. “I think my dad would have,” his grin turns sad momentarily.

Stiles feels a surge of pride at that. “But not your mom?” He asks wryly.

“Oh, no,” Derek claims definitively. “She was far too much like you. It would have taken a long time for her to warm up to you.”

Stiles holds one finger up triumphantly. “But she would have eventually!”

Derek nods. “I have no doubt.”

Stiles sets down his mug and scratches Lo behind the ears. The puppy whines and turns around on Stiles’ lap a few times before plopping down and closing her eyes with a yawn.

“Well now I can’t move,” he declares, staring down at the sleeping pup in adoration.

There is a moment then where Stiles can see his future so clearly. With Derek by his side and Lydia always nearby. He and Derek living peacefully in their cabin with their dog, listening to the pitter patter of little werewolf feet running around downstairs. 

Stiles’ breath catches in his chest and his eyes start to glisten just thinking about the life he can never have, but so desperately wants. Without a word, Derek puts down his mug and wraps his arms around Stiles’ shoulders.

Stiles leans into Derek, taking solace in his scent and the strength of his embrace. His own hands never leave Lo’s fur.

A few tears escape his eyes, but he is able to keep his breathing under control. Derek doesn’t let go until he feels Stiles nod against his collarbone.

“Do you want to talk about what prompted that?” he asks Stiles at a whisper.

Stiles shakes his head. “No. But you might have to put up with that happening a few more times in the near future.”

“Ok,” Derek replies simply, placing a calming hand on Stiles’ knee and leaving it there.

Stiles zones out for a few minutes, staring down at Lo. He is acutely aware of Derek’s grip on his knee.

Derek breaks the comfortable silence. “I – I’ve been, uh,” he stammers before clearing his throat. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Stiles is initially overwhelmed by how disappointed he is to hear Derek say that, but he shakes those thoughts away to make room for the supportive optimism he would imagine Derek needs right now. “Oh?” He says in what he hopes is an open, welcoming way.

Derek nods, still trying to get a read on Stiles’ reaction. If his face is any indication, he’s failing. “Yeah, for a few months now. It’s been really helpful.”

Stiles frowns at the word. “Helpful?”

“Very. If you want, I can put you in touch with her.” Derek’s eyes betray his vulnerability as he tries to sound more confident than he is.

Stiles frowns, wondering where the disconnect is, before it hits him. “Oh! You mean you’ve been seeing a therapist?”

Derek nods again, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What did you think I meant?” He removes his hand from Stiles’ knee and scratches his beard.

Stiles tries to backpedal. “No, no, that’s what I thought you meant. Therapy, definitely.”

Derek’s face softens. “I’m not dating anyone, Stiles.”

They lock eyes and a look passes between them. A kind of understanding that Stiles knows they’ll have to talk about eventually.

But not now.

“Wait,” he says suddenly as a thought hits him. “How can you talk to a therapist? Don’t you have to edit like everything you say to her?”

Derek smiles. “Actually, I found one who’s in the know. She’s a former emissary who knew my mom.”

“That’s great, Derek,” Stiles tells him earnestly. 

The wolf shrugs. “Just something to think about, if you want.”

Stiles bites his lip and looks down, missing how Derek’s gaze is drawn to his mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He stands up and grabs their empty mugs, bringing them into the kitchen.

Lo’s ears perk up when the ceramic hits the sink, and she hops down from Stiles’ lap to wander around after Derek.

Stiles stands as well, stretching with a groan. He’s sure he must be imagining the hungry look in Derek’s eyes as he takes in the patch of skin revealed by Stiles’ shirt riding up.

Derek clears his throat and bends over to scoop up Lo. “I’ll see you in the morning, Stiles.”

“Goodnight,” Stiles replies, turning to go down the stairs. “Sourwolf,” he adds over his shoulder, chuckling when he hears a playful growl in response.

When Stiles finally collapses into bed, after texting back and forth with his dad for a few minutes, he is hit with a wave of Derek’s scent.

Smiling, Stiles rolls around under the covers until he finally wiggles into a comfortable position.


	13. The happy thing

He is woken up an indeterminate amount of time later by a tongue running up his face. Stiles blinks awake and sees Lo bouncing up and down on his chest, panting happily.

He looks towards the now-open bedroom door and sees Derek leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You snore,” he accuses with a smirk.

“Do not,” Stiles retorts, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. Lo whines at being displaced, but forgives Stiles immediately when he starts to scratch idly behind her ear.

Still only half awake, Stiles takes in the full sight of Derek in his sleeping pants and an overlarge t-shirt. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “I can’t get over how good you look.” 

Derek dons a playfully surprised look while he waits for Stiles’ words to catch up with him.

“Happy, I mean,” Stiles rushes to correct, now fully alert. “I can’t get over how happy you –”

He groans and flops back down on the bed, pulling the covers over his head.

Stiles only emerges when he hears the sound of Derek’s laughter. It’s such a wonderful, new noise and Stiles doesn’t want to hear it muffled under the comforter.

“Thanks, Stiles,” Derek says with a grin. “I’m working on it. The happy thing, I mean.”

Stiles just nods dumbly, at a loss for words until he remembers. “Hey, why do my pillows smell like you?”

Derek stops smiling and blushes furiously. “Oh. I may have switched the pillowcases in your room and Lydia’s with mine.” He looks down and shuffles his feet, which Stiles finds absolutely adorable. “You said my scent comforted you, so I just thought… it was nothing really, just a small thing.”

Stiles sighs. “What time is it?”

Derek frowns briefly at the sudden change in subject and looks down at his watch. “Just past 9:00am.”

Stiles eyebrows shot up. “Derek, I slept for almost seven hours. That’s not a small thing. That’s – that’s everything.” A flare of hope caused an uptick in his heart, prompting Derek’s gaze to shoot to Stiles’ chest.

Derek nods, pleased. “Well, get up, then. Lydia and I are making pancakes.”

Lo follows Derek upstairs with a soft click click click of claws on the hardwood.

Stiles throws his legs over the side of the bed and runs his hands over his face and through his hair to wake himself up. 

He grabs his phone from the nightstand and sends a text to his dad.

Stiles (9:07am): Slept for 7 hours last night.

He gets up and pads over to the dresser where most of his clothes are already unpacked. Shivering slightly now that he’s out of the warmth of the covers, he picks up one of Derek’s thumbhole sweaters and throws it on with a pair of sweatpants.

Stiles lets his nose guide him upstairs, following the scent of coffee and bacon, and finds Lydia glaring at the griddle.

Derek is clearly trying not to laugh as he shows her again how to flip the pancake. “How do you not know how to flip a pancake?”

Lydia turns her glare on him. “Well, sorry I was never invited to one of your Hale family Sunday breakfasts, Derek.”

“Clearly our loss, given your sunny morning demeanor,” he retorts, poking her in the side.

Lydia tries not to smile, grabbing the spatula around the middle and poking Derek back with the handle.

Stiles stops at the top of the stairs, watching the two bicker like brother and sister with a fond grin.

His phone pings in his pocket, causing Lydia to look up and smile in greeting. Derek, who already knew Stiles was upstairs, begins plating some misshapen pancakes and crispy bacon for the boy.

Stiles looks down at his phone and sees that his dad has replied with a thumbs up emoji and celebration fireworks in the background of the message.

He screenshots the message and sends it to Cora.

Stiles (9:12am): I assume you’re responsible for teaching him how to do this?

Shaking his head, he sits down at the table next to Derek, digging into the meal hungrily.

He manages to eat a few strips of bacon and about a third of his pancakes, still not used to having an appetite. 

Stiles jumps a little when he feels Derek’s leg press up against his. Derek doesn’t look up from his food, but he leaves his leg there, flush up against Stiles’ from ankle to knee. 

Stiles’ heart skips a beat and he’s sure Derek can hear it racing. He looks over and sees a small smirk.

Lydia joins them at the table after giving up on making the perfect pancake. She has batter in her hair and on her cheek, but the look on her face makes it clear that it is not to be mentioned.

Stiles sits back and enjoys the warm, content feeling of their first pack breakfast, clinging to the cold glass of orange juice and pressing back against the comforting pressure of Derek’s leg.

“So,” Derek says after finishing off the bacon. “I’ve got a couple of friends coming over for dinner tonight.” He looks at Lydia and Stiles nervously.

“Oh, ok,” offers Stiles, looking at Lydia. “We can make ourselves scarce if you want…”

Lydia rolls her eyes as Derek snorts softly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek assures him. “I’d like you both to be here. I just wanted to let you know in case either of you wasn’t up for it or something.”

Stiles lets out his breath slowly and considers Derek. “Ok,” he concedes finally. “That should be fine.”

After breakfast, Lydia bundles up and goes outside to sit by the still-frozen lake Derek lives on, leaving Stiles and Derek alone.

Stiles chuckles at the message Cora sent him, which is just an angel emoji, and puts his phone on silent.

He stands up when Derek does and helps clear the table and wash the dishes. Stiles gets lost in thoughts of home while scrubbing down the plates. The pleasant thoughts soon turn into memories of blood and screaming, and cause his momentary happiness to turn to ash in his mouth as he loses time staring out the window at nothing.

He feels a warm hand on the small of his back and fails to hold back a whimper. Derek takes the plate and sponge out of his hands and leads Stiles to the couch, where they both sit down quietly.

Stiles closes his eyes and focuses on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Derek’s hand is still on his back, and Stiles is surprised how easy it is to ground himself to his touch.


	14. I want to

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Derek about half an hour later.

Stiles shakes his head slowly. “Nothing really to talk about. I just – sometimes I start thinking about things and I can’t stop.” A stray tear escapes his eye and Stiles rushes to wipe it away.

Derek’s hand moves from his lower back to his shoulder blades, spreading his fingers out to he’s covering half the width of Stiles’ back. He starts running his blunt, human fingernails up and down Stiles’ back, prompting Stiles to close his eyes and lean into the touch.

Stiles shudders as he feels something new uncoil in his gut. He recognizes it as arousal and sits up straight, displacing Derek’s hand.

“Maybe we should talk about that instead?” he suggests before he can stop himself.

The corners of Derek’s mouth tick upwards for a moment. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows, clearly inviting Stiles to continue talking.

Stiles deflates. “Yeah, I’m sure you can smell that…” He ducks his head, embarrassed.

“Hey, no,” Derek grasps Stiles’ jaw tenderly, encouraging him to look up. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’d think I’d have the whole ‘unrequited crush’ thing down by now, huh?” Stiles chuckles self-deprecatingly, biting his lip but still refusing to look Derek in the eye.

Derek is quiet for so long, Stiles can’t help but allow his eyes to rake over the man’s face. He looks stunned.

His hand lets go of Stiles’ face and falls uselessly onto his lap. His eyes are slightly glassy and unfocused. Derek shakes his head to clear his mind and locks eyes with Stiles.

“Unrequited?” he clarifies quietly.

Stiles nods, not daring to speak.

Derek’s hand returns to Stiles’ face, this time to cup his jaw and pull him forward.

Stiles lets himself be pulled and closes his eyes only a second before his lips meet Derek’s.

He can feel Derek smiling into the kiss when Stiles lets out a small whine from the back of his throat.

Derek’s lips are so soft, Stiles can hardly be blamed for getting lost in them. When Derek’s tongue darts out to prod at the seam of Stiles’ mouth, he almost allows it entry.

Instead, he pulls back with a groan. Not too far, just enough to rest his forehead on Derek’s. 

Stiles chances a peek at Derek and finds that his eyes are shining their striking blue. Derek shakes his head a little and allows them to lose their glow. Taking a moment to first nuzzle Stiles’ nose with his own, he pulls back and waits for Stiles to say something.

Stiles’ tongue darts out to his lips to chase the taste Derek has left on them. He clears his throat and takes a deep, calming breath.

“I can’t, um –” he trails off uncertainly.

Derek’s face falls and he makes to stand up. “Oh, of course.”

Stiles feels a spark of fond annoyance and reaches out to pull Derek back down to the couch. “No, dummy. I want to. I – I really like you, kind of always have. I just. I’m not in a place where I can – ugh!” He groans in frustration and buries his head in his hands.

Derek scoots closer on the couch so their sides are pressed together, but makes no move to reach out to Stiles. “I get it. After the fire, it took me almost a year before I let someone who wasn’t Laura touch me. And another six months after that before I could even think about being intimate with someone.”

Stiles shakes his head miserably. “Yeah, but that’s different. What you went through… you lost your whole pack.”

Derek frowns. “Are you trying to say you don’t think you have a good enough reason to be damaged?”

Stiles is silent for long enough that Derek feels the need to squat in front of him to make his point.

“Stiles, the last two years of your life were your fire. You have survived things no one else has. You’re allowed to grieve for the life you wanted.”

Stiles falls forward and rests his head on Derek’s collarbone, absolutely drained. 

“You were barely sixteen when this life was thrust upon you. You never asked for it – for all the death and destruction and monsters. You also never backed down. Stiles, you saved so many lives, including my own. And you did it almost at the cost of your own life and sanity.”

Derek grips Stiles’ shoulders and the boy lets out a muffled wail. He can feel the tears soaking his shirt.

“Everything you feel right now is valid; all the grief and sadness and relief. It’s all ok. You get to rest now.”

They stay like that for the better part of half an hour. Stiles lets his tears flow freely and allows himself to be held.

When they finally separate, Derek places a soft kiss on Stiles’ forehead. Stiles leans back into the couch and closes his eyes. “I’m just not ready,” he admits sadly.

Derek nods. “That’s ok. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles’ eyes fly open. “I can’t ask you to wait for me.”

Derek manhandles Stiles until the boy is lying on his side with his head pillowed on the arm of the couch. “You don’t have to ask.”

Stiles opens his mouth, prepared to counter Derek’s statement, but his voice is interrupted by a massive yawn. His eyes start to slip closed without his permission and he realizes just how tired he is.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warns hazily.

Derek chuckles, pulling a blanket over Stiles. “I didn’t think it was.”

Stiles wakes up about an hour later, feeling thirsty and content. He blinks awake slowly and sits up in a daze, remembering his conversation with Derek as if it had happened in a dream. 

He pads over to the kitchen to grab some water. Thirst quenched, he walks to the sliding glass door and looks out towards the backyard.

There is a small stone stairway built into the ground leading to the dock by a large lake. Just before the dock is a patch of grass with a large swinging bench.

Stiles smiles when he takes in the sight on the bench. Derek and Lydia are curled up under a blanket. Lydia’s feet are tucked underneath her while she leans into Derek, and Stiles can just barely make out Derek using his legs to slowly rock them back and forth.

Stiles leaves them to their moment and goes off in search of some puppy love. 

“Lo?” he calls, looking around the main floor.

He immediately hears the sounds of a running dog downstairs, and walks over to the top of them to meet her. He sits on the top stair and rubs Lo’s head and ears while she sniffs him excitedly.

Stiles leans against the banister and takes a deep breath. Marveling at how much easier it is to breathe here than in Beacon Hills, Stiles doesn’t hear Derek and Lydia return until Lydia takes a seat next to him.


	15. Holy shit

“Hey, you,” Lydia says, placing one hand on Lo’s fur to pet her and using the other to ruffle Stiles’ hair. 

She scoots towards him so they’re flush against each other and takes a deep breath in through her nose, letting her eyes slide closed with a pleased smile on her face through the exhale.

Stiles can’t help but smile in return at how peaceful she looks. “You like it here,” he says quietly.

Lydia hums in agreement and opens her eyes, grin widening as she takes in Stiles’ smiling face. “You do, too,” she accuses, nudging him with her shoulder.

Stiles ducks his head shyly and looks around to find Derek.

“He went to the store,” Lydia tells him, correctly interpreting Stiles’ motives. “He’s really nervous about this dinner for some reason.”

Stiles frowns a bit at that, but puts it out of his mind, content to sit with Lydia and pet Lo for a few more minutes in silence.

Lydia gets up and holds out her hand to pull Stiles to his feet. “Derek told us to make ourselves at home and look around a bit while he was gone. Come on,” she nods down the stairs and takes Stiles’ hand, letting Lo lead them down.

They take a brief tour of the house, ending in Derek’s room. Drawn in by the overwhelming scent, Stiles and Lydia sprawl out on top of his bed. Lydia sits up slightly and arranges the pillows so she’s propped against the headboard. Stiles shuffles around until his head is in Lydia’s lap.

Once they’re settled, Lo joins them and curls up on top of Lydia’s leg in front of Stiles. 

Stiles turns on the TV in front of the bed and the three settle in to watch a movie.

When Derek returns from the store, he’s a little surprised at how quiet his house is. He focuses his hearing and is relieved when he finds Stiles and Lydia’s heartbeats. They’re close together, with Lo.

He unpacks the groceries quickly and quietly, and ventures into his room to see what they’re up to. His heart soars when he sees them asleep on his bed, curled up around each other. 

Lydia’s hand is in Stiles’ hair, as if she’d fallen asleep running her fingers through it. Stiles and Lo are in a similar position.

Derek turns off the television and grabs the book off of his bedside table. He crosses the room quietly and settles into the armchair on the far side of his bedroom, giving him a great view of the forest outside and of his packmates sleeping on his bed. 

He has only finished a few chapters when his phone buzzes in his pocket, indicating that it’s time for him to start dinner.

The buzzing wakes Lo, whose squirming wakes Stiles. Thankfully, Lydia remains blissfully ignorant and continues to sleep.

Stiles sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His gaze falls upon Derek and he smiles.

Returning the smile, Derek stands up and grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed. He drapes it over Lydia and holds out his hand to help Stiles off the bed.

Stiles takes it gratefully and pulls himself up, careful not to wake Lydia.

He expects Derek to let go once he’s up, but the man just readjusts his hand so their fingers are interlocked.

Stiles blushes and looks down at where they’re joined. Derek shoots him a private, shy smile and leads him into the kitchen.

Derek lets go and takes out some potatoes to wash. He hands them to Stiles with a wink. “Peel these, will you?”

Momentarily stunned, Stiles holds his hands out as his eyes glaze over.

“What?” Derek smirks but looks wary at the change in Stiles’ behavior.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Stiles licks his lips. “Nothing, you’re just the hottest person who’s ever winked at me, that’s all.”

Derek chuckles, but sobers quickly. “Is… is that alright? I know we said we weren’t going to rush into anything, but –.”

Stiles smiles and grabs the potato peeler out of the drawer. “You’re asking me if it’s ok if the hottest, most incredible person I’ve ever met flirts with me while I get my shit together enough to date him?”

Derek ducks his head, but not before Stiles catches a glimpse of the blush that dips below his neckline. “Alright, then,” Derek says, raising his head with a twinkle in his eye.

Stiles lets his head fall back with a fake put out groan. “You’re going to torture me, aren’t you?” He looks up at Derek when the wolf doesn’t respond and sees a hungry look in his eyes. The man’s gaze is locked on Stiles’ exposed neck.

Derek shakes his head and fixes Stiles with a cocky smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says as he reaches over Stiles to grab a knife, letting his hand brush over Stiles’ lightly.

Ignoring the rush he feels at the contact and the uptick in his heartbeat, Stiles pointedly looks away from Derek and starts peeling the potatoes with a single-minded ferocity that makes Derek chuckle.

After the charged moment has passed, Stiles and Derek work together in companionable silence until Derek perks up.

“Your friends getting close?” Stiles asks, wiping his hands on the dish towel and closing the lid on the simmering stew.

Derek nods and disappears into his room to wake Lydia.

Stiles waits for a knock before striding over to the door, dipping down to give Lo a scratch behind the ears before opening it.

“Holy shit,” he whispers under his breath at the sight of the visitor.

“Aw, man. Now I owe Derek ten bucks,” says Isaac, shooting his trademark disarming smile at Stiles. “He said you’d curse when you saw me and I told him you’d just shut the door in my face.”

Coming back to his senses, Stiles grins. “Well, who says I can’t do both?” He reaches for the door and starts to shut it, but is stopped by Isaac, who takes a step into the doorway, smiling wildly.

Stiles lets go of the door and gathers his old friend into a tight hug, reveling in the feeling of something falling into place.

They separate only seconds before Stiles hears a soft gasp from Derek’s bedroom doorway, followed by the quick pitter patter of Lydia’s bare feet dashing across the hardwood. 

Isaac opens his arms just in time for Lydia to run into them. He lets out a small “oof” at the force of her embrace, but closes his eyes and smiles when she settles in his grasp.

“Hey, Lydia,” he whispers into her hair. 

Stiles smiles and steps back, looking for Derek. He finds the man in his bedroom doorway, watching the greeting with a content grin.

Stiles moves to close the door once Isaac and Lydia, talking animatedly, start walking further into the house, but Derek stops him with a shake of his head.

“There’s one more coming,” he says, striding forward and placing a grounding hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Who?” Stiles asks with a slight frown. “Anyone I know?”

Derek just nods and looks out towards the driveway. Stiles can tell that Derek can hear the visitor, but it takes a few seconds for the footsteps to become audible to Stiles as well.

When the man turns the corner around the house and starts walking towards the front door, Stiles almost sags with relief. 

“Chris,” he puffs out, smiling and reaching out for a brief hug. “Good to see you, man.”

Chris smiles and pats Stiles on the back amicably. He pulls back and his eyes search the main floor with purpose.

Once his eyes land on Lydia, he exhales sharply, dropping his smile. He looks at Derek nervously, but turns his attention back to Lydia after Derek’s reassuring nod.

“Mr. Argent?” Lydia’s soft voice makes her sound so much like the 17 year old girl she is when she takes in the sight of her best friend’s dad – someone she thought was lost to her after the last time he left town.

Chris nods and takes a tentative step forward. Isaac, who had put his hand on Lydia’s back to steady her, pushes her gently forward.

It’s all the encouragement she needs. She throws herself into Chris’s arms and laughs happily when he lifts her off her feet in his haste to return the embrace with enthusiasm.


	16. People to talk to

Stiles walks over to Isaac and claps him on the back. “Really glad you guys are here.”

Isaac offers him a bashful smile and guides them into the kitchen. Derek finishes setting the table while Isaac criticizes everything about the stew, prompting Stiles to start pelting him with pieces of bread.

“Boys,” Chris admonishes with a sigh, walking back towards them.

Isaac drops the hand holding retaliatory bread and smirks. “Sorry.” He joins Lydia and Derek at the table while Chris and Stiles get everyone drinks.

“So, I heard you’ve been having kind of a rough time,” Chris says gently, pouring some wine for himself and Derek.

Stiles freezes, hand tightening on the water he just grabbed from the fridge. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Chris, correctly interpreting Stiles’ reaction, places a bracing hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it; I’m just saying… you’ve got people to talk to when you’re ready.”

Stiles looks up at Chris’ face and sees something in it that makes him relax. His shoulders loosen up and he nods numbly, taking a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, thanks.”

Chris shoots him a grim smile, then drops the subject altogether.

When Stiles turns around to join everyone at the table, he throws a dirty look at Lydia and Isaac as he realizes the only spot left open is right next to Derek.

Isaac just cocks his head and raises his eyebrows innocently. Lydia smiles and eyes the empty chair pointedly.

Thankfully, Derek is distracted momentarily by the wine Chris has brought him and misses the exchange. Stiles knows Derek wouldn’t mind, but he’s not quite ready to be so public about his feelings yet.

Despite being excruciatingly aware of his proximity to Derek the whole night, Stiles finds himself enjoying dinner. He had been a little worried about having so many people around him at once, but the familiarity and feeling of family and friends grounds him more than anything else.

After dinner, Chris and Lydia grab blankets and head down to the swinging bench in the backyard for a long-overdue talk. Chris seems nervous, but Stiles is sure Lydia will forgive him for leaving. What she really needs is family, so he knows they’ll work it out.

Derek, Isaac, and Stiles settle into the living room with Lo curled up on Isaac’s lap.

“She likes you better than me,” Derek grumbles adorably. 

“Yup,” responds Isaac obnoxiously, laughing outright when Derek growls at him.

Stiles takes in the exchange, grinning happily next to Derek on the couch. “So, wait, are you the annoying neighbor Derek keeps complaining about?” Stiles points at Isaac accusatorily.

Isaac dons a face of mock outrage while Derek chuckles. “Yeah, because it was so pleasant hearing all the renovations you made to this place, Derek.”

Derek holds up his hands innocently. “Hey, I’m not the one singing Backstreet Boys at all hours of the night at the top of my lungs. Honestly, I don’t know how Chris stands it,” Derek retorts good-naturedly.

“Chris?” 

Isaac nods, scratching Lo behind the ears. “Yeah, we live together. He kind of, uh, adopted me, actually. You know, after we left Beacon Hills.”

“I didn’t know that,” Stiles says, looking back and forth between Isaac on the armchair and Derek.

“I needed to finish school and we decided it would just be easier if he did. So, yeah, I’m an Argent now.” Isaac shrugs easily and smiles at the two of them on the couch. 

They spend the rest of the night getting caught up on everything they’ve missed while apart. Isaac tactfully avoids the topic of Scott, either having heard of their fight from Derek, or noticing that Stiles never brings him up.

When Chris and Lydia reappear from outside, Lydia makes a beeline for Stiles. She scoots herself in between him and the arm of the sofa, making the most of the six inches of room. She drapes her frozen legs across his lap and lets her feet land in Derek’s. 

Stiles wraps his arm around her shoulder automatically and presses a quick kiss to the top of her cold head.

Isaac frowns in confusion at the display, eying the pair and Derek with consternation. The expression clears when he sees Derek start to rub some feeling back into Lydia’s frozen feet.

Stiles shoots him a questioning look, clearly not understanding Isaac’s reaction, but Isaac just waves him away.

“Yeah, we might have stayed out there a bit too long,” Chris admits with a chuckle, draping a blanket across the three on the couch. “Isaac, we should get going.”

Isaac stands and stretches, letting his bones shake out with a pop.

“I told Lydia I’d teach her how to shoot,” Chris tells him. “Is it ok if she crashes your session tomorrow?”

“No problem,” Isaac says agreeably, grabbing their coats from the rack by the front door. “See ya,” he waves towards the couch with a yawn.

The three echo a weak and sleepy goodbye. Chris claps Stiles on the shoulder and places a hand on top of Lydia’s head almost reverently as he goes.

No one speaks for a few minutes, until Derek sighs. “She’s freezing.”

Lydia nods pathetically into Stiles’ chest and groans.

“Alright,” Derek declares, standing up and displacing Lydia’s feet. She grumbles at the loss of the werewolf heat until Derek scoops her up into a bridal carry. “Into the big bed.”

Stiles laughs at the excited look on Lydia’s face, but stays on the couch, unsure if he’s supposed to follow. 

Derek takes the decision out of his hands. “You coming?” He asks Stiles with a wink.

Stiles jumps up and heads in after them, shutting the door and turning off the light behind him. 

Derek strips off his shirt and jeans, so Stiles follows suit. Together, they help Lydia into a pair of Derek’s sweatpants and artfully avoid their gaze as she fumbles her way into one of his t shirts. 

The three of them get into Derek’s bed, with Derek and Stiles bracketing a now-shivering Lydia. 

Lydia gravitates towards the werewolf heat and burrows into Derek’s chest. He rumbles suddenly, eliciting a surprised laugh from the girl. “Just checking to make sure you’re still responsive,” he teases through a chuckle. 

Stiles rubs his hand up and down Lydia’s cold shoulder, trying to restore blood flow. He jumps when Lo joins them, and scoots back a little to allow her to burrow in between himself and Lydia. 

Derek reaches down with one hand and drapes the covers over the four of them. Within a few minutes, Lydia and Lo are fast asleep. 

Stiles meets Derek’s eyes over Lydia’s head and is shocked at the depth of his feelings for this man. He stops himself before he overthinks what he’s about to do, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to Derek’s lips.

Derek returns the kiss and smiles when Stiles pulls back. “Goodnight, Stiles,” he whispers.

“’Night, Derek.”


	17. It's an anchor

The next two weeks pass in a haze of what Stiles cautiously dubs contentment. 

After a confusing conversation with Isaac, during which Stiles emphatically assures the beta that there’s nothing going on between himself and Lydia, Stiles starts to notice that the banshee seems to spend more and more time at the Argent house.

When Stiles asks Derek about this development, Derek simply zips his lips and tells Stiles that when Isaac and Lydia are ready to talk about it, they will.

In the meantime, Stiles does his best to focus on himself. It takes a few days for Derek to convince him that it’s not selfish to put yourself first for a while, but eventually he gives in and tries it.

And it feels great.

Stiles ventures outside one morning late-April and finds that the sight of the trees surrounding him doesn’t make him feel suffocated like it had in the Preserve. Instead, he finds himself feeling pleasantly constricted, as if the forest is embracing him.

He loses himself on the swing out back, staring at the slowly melting lake. Derek joins him just when his hands start to feel numb. 

Stiles curls into Derek’s side instinctively and hides his hands under Derek’s shirt, laughing when his cold digits make the wolf jump. “Mmm, warm,” Stiles hums, letting his eyes slip closed as his head lolls on Derek’s shoulder.

He knows Derek can tell he’s awake by his breathing, so he really shouldn’t be surprised when Derek speaks a few minutes later. “Stiles, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Stiles’ stomach drops at the words. 

Sensing the sudden change in Stiles’ scent, Derek hastens to reassure the boy. “No, no, it’s nothing bad,” he says, squeezing Stiles closer to him. “I just wanted to ask you about college.”

Stiles groans, but his gut unclenches. His mind had immediately gone to the worst case scenarios, so he focuses on his breathing until he can answer without his voice shaking. “Actually, Lydia and I both applied to St. Cloud State University,” Stiles admits shyly. 

Derek huffs a laugh. “Exactly how long have you both known I was in Minnesota?”

Stiles just smiles in response. “We got in, and it has a pretty good engineering program. It’s only an hour away…” he trails off, trying to get a good read on Derek’s face by pulling back a bit.

The wolf is suspiciously silent, turning his gaze away from Stiles’ eyes to the lake. “You both deserve better than that,” he whispers in a defeated voice a few minutes later.

Stiles slides his hands out from under Derek’s shirt and stands up, stretching the stiffness out of his limbs. He grabs Derek’s hand and leads him back up the stairs into the warm house.

He stops just inside the door and shivers a bit when hit with the blast of hot air coming from the vents at his feet. Silently, Stiles guides Derek to the couch and arranges them so he’s sitting against Derek’s chest with their legs splayed out in front of him. 

Derek wastes no time in wrapping his arms around the boy protectively, both appeasing the wolf inside of him and trying to keep Stiles warm.

“I think we could do it,” Stiles says a minute later. “Go to one of the more prestigious schools we applied to, I mean. We both got into Yale, Lydia got into MIT, I got into Princeton. It’s not like we don’t have options.”

He finds it easier to talk when he’s not looking at Derek’s face. He begins tracing Derek’s fingers with his own, relishing in the fact that he leaves a line of goosebumps in his wake.

“I just don’t know if it would be worth it,” Stiles concludes softly. 

Derek presses a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head, tightening his grip slightly before responding. “You need this,” he guesses, using the hand Stiles isn’t holding to gesture at everything around them.

Stiles closes his eyes, sniffling as a tear escapes before he can stop it; the relief of Derek just completely understanding what he’s trying to say taking his breath away. “Yeah,” he whispers back. “I need all of this. This, right here,” he squeezes Derek’s arms. “You, Lydia, Isaac, Chris, everything up here where I can breathe. I think if I left all of this, I would be lost again.”

Derek nuzzles his nose against Stiles’ cheek, prompting the boy to turn his head to the side to give the wolf better access to his neck. He giggles a bit at the slight tickle of Derek’s beard, and grins as Derek nestles his face into the side of his neck.

“What’s got you so wolfy all of a sudden?” Stiles teases.

There’s a snuffling sound as Derek rubs his beard over Stiles’ skin before lifting his head up completely. “It’s an anchor… what you’re describing. The feeling you get from a pack – that they’ll keep you grounded when you feel lost; it’s an anchor.”

Stiles smiles. “You sound surprised.”

Derek shrugs, the movement jostling Stiles momentarily. “Just happy, I guess. I’d hoped you’d find your anchor, I just never really thought it would be me – us – the pack,” he stammers.

Leaning his head back onto Derek’s shoulder, Stiles looks up to find Derek’s eyes. “I probably should have figured it out sooner. Just texting you was enough to bring me out of my… funk… after everything that happened in Beacon Hills.” He frowns a little at his wording, but it’s close enough that he knows Derek understands what he’s trying to say.

“My mom used to tell me that anchors would help tether us when we felt lost,” Derek says, his fierce gaze not leaving Stiles’. “But she also said that over time, they would help us feel lost less often.”

Stiles closes his eyes and buries his head into Derek’s chest, hoping with everything left in him that Derek’s mom was right. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely. “For sharing that. And for, well, everything,” he finishes lamely.

Thankfully, Derek gets it, and simply starts to run his hands up and down Stiles’ arms in response.

Stiles soon falls asleep under Derek’s ministrations, only to be awoken about half an hour later by the sound of the front door closing.


	18. I'm glad

Stiles looks up to find Lydia hanging her coat on the hook by the door. She sees the two getting cozy on the couch and wastes no time in joining them, sitting happily at their feet. 

“So,” Derek says, looking at Lydia while playing with Stiles’ fingers. “St. Cloud State?”

If Lydia is surprised by Derek’s question, she doesn’t show it. “Looks like,” she confirms.

“Stiles said you got into MIT?” Derek hedged, trying to keep all biased inflection from his voice.

Lydia smiles, patting his shin consolingly. “I did. And in another life, maybe I’d go there. But I just – I can’t leave my…”

“Pack?” Stiles suggests.

“Family,” Lydia finishes quietly.

Derek whines, low in his throat. Lydia flashes him a toothy grin at the reaction and hops out of her seat. She takes a second to run her hand over Derek’s head, remembering what she knows of scent marking, before skipping into the kitchen.

“Oh, no,” groans Stiles. “It’s Lydia’s turn to make dinner.”

Derek nods faux-somberly. “Which means it’s frozen pizza night.”

“Shut it, you two, or I’m making veggie pizzas this time,” Lydia retorts in a mock stern voice, already preheating the oven.

Stiles stands up, stretching before joining Lydia in the kitchen. His phone rings right as he’s taking the pizzas out of their packaging. Lydia reaches into his back pocket for him and places his phone on speaker so he can greet his dad hands-free.

“Hey, pops, you’re on speaker.” They’d made a deal to talk every other day, but he still smiles whenever he sees his dad’s name on the screen.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad replies. “Is Derek around?”

“I’m right here. Is everything ok?” Derek’s voice floats in from the living room, getting louder as he walks into the kitchen. He stops to throw away a piece of plastic wrapping Stiles managed to miss, before hopping up onto the counter by the phone.

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” John replies airily. “Just wondering why there’s a Cora-shaped squatter in my house, currently unpacking what looks to be all of her earthly possessions into the guest room?” His words sound annoyed, but Stiles can hear a tinge of humor in his tone.

Derek and Stiles smile at each other before Derek responds. “You’ll have to excuse her, Sheriff, she was raised by wolves.”

Stiles barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, while Lydia whacks Derek on the arm with a kitchen towel, barely containing her own smile.

“Stiles, your dad had a cheeseburger last night,” is Cora’s way of joining the conversation. 

Stiles opens his mouth to scold his dad, only to be interrupted by his dad’s indignant squawk. He listens to the two of them bicker and something settles inside of him. He looks up at Derek and knows this is a good thing; Cora will look after his dad, and his dad will look after Cora. 

“Well, I think this is a great little arrangement you’ve got,” Lydia interjects, correctly interpreting Derek and Stiles’ silent exchange.

“Aw, hell, Lydia, not you too?” John replies, sounding betrayed. 

“I’m hungry,” Cora interrupts.

Derek tries to hide a laugh in his hand, and is only moderately successful. 

Stiles can almost hear his dad running his hands over his face. “Ok, well I can’t cook.”

Cora huffs. “I shoulda stayed at Scott’s. Ms. McCall can cook.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Stiles hears his dad say as he’s clearly ruffling through the pantry.

“Oh, no. That woman scares me,” Cora responds simply.

“And I don’t?” John replies indignantly.

“Nope.”

John chuckles sardonically. “Alright, kid, looks like we have no food. Takeout? Or I can go get some groceries.”

“Oh, hey,” Cora says, markedly more excited than she was a second ago. “I don’t do groceries, but I can cook.”

“Ah, so I buy, you cook?”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Stiles groans. “Oh my god, you two are insufferable.”

The five of them chat until John has to leave for the grocery store and Lydia’s pizzas are done baking. When they hang up, it feels like another piece of Stiles’ life has fit into its rightful place.

It’s another week before Stiles and Lydia finally get around to sending in their intent to attend to St. Cloud State. They manage to finagle their way into an off-campus apartment so they can room together during the week. Since school’s only an hour away, their plan is to stay in St. Cloud on weekdays and come home on weekends. 

It’s been almost a month since Lydia has spoken to her mom, so she sets aside some time for a phone call before dinner one night. Derek and Stiles say nothing when she grabs a blanket and heads outside to make the call, but are both secretly pleased when Lo follows her out.

Derek tries to give her as much privacy as he can, while still keeping an ear out for any potential distress. Stiles sees him texting Isaac, holding the boy at bay until they can determine if Lydia needs some backup.

Stiles watches the pasta cook, waiting for any sign from Derek that may indicate how the call is going, when he feels warm, strong hands snake around his waist. Stiles hums happily, grabbing the arms and holding them there.

Derek places his head in between Stiles’ shoulder blades and waits for Lydia’s call to finish. He looks up again about five minutes later. Stiles turns in his arms and sees the man smiling. “What? Did it go well?”

Derek nods and pulls out his phone. He has hardly finished sending the message before Isaac bursts through the front door and out the back door in a blur. Derek laughs at his beta before turning his attention back to Stiles. “Lydia forgave her. That’s all I listened to.”

Stiles smiles and burrows into Derek’s embrace, content to stay there until the timer goes off.

Isaac and Lydia stay out back through dinner, so Stiles packs up the leftovers and puts them in the fridge. 

Isaac returns some time later, when Derek and Stiles are halfway through their ninth round of crazy eights (“We are NOT going to just play until you win, Stiles.”)

“She ok?” Derek asks immediately, setting his cards down and giving Isaac his full attention.

Isaac nods, smiling. “Yeah, she just needs her Alpha now.”

“Not an Alpha,” Derek grumbles, though he’s already out of his seat and halfway to the door.

“What about her boyfriend?” Stiles asks innocently, hiding his face in his cards.

“I never said I was her boyfriend,” Isaac objects half-heartedly as he heats up some leftovers. He takes Derek’s seat once his food is warm and picks up the forgotten cards.

“Well, whatever you are, I’m glad,” Stiles admits softly, not meeting his friend’s eyes. He looks up in time to see the tips of Isaac’s ears turn pink, but they leave it at that.


	19. Talk to him

Summer comes upon them faster than anyone anticipated. The whole pack attends Isaac’s high school graduation, cheering loudly when the principal calls his name. Derek wolf whistles, because of course he does, and Stiles can see even from all the way in the back of the bleachers that Isaac is nearly overcome with happiness at the sight of his found family in the stands.

Isaac surprises no one when he chooses to celebrate his graduation by sweeping Lydia into a very public kiss once the graduates are excused from the ceremony. Lydia flushes when they break apart, and doesn’t let go of Isaac’s hand for the duration of the party they throw for him back at Derek’s house.

When Isaac finishes opening his gifts, he disappears out front for a few seconds, mumbling about having to retrieve something from the car. He returns with an uncharacteristically hesitant expression on his face as he hands a package to both his dad and to Derek.

Confused, Chris opens his first and gasps at the sight of an extra graduation cap with the initials A.A. embroidered into the top. Derek opens his package and finds two caps, one marked V.B., and the other, E.R.

Chris hugs Isaac gruffly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he pulls away. Derek grips the back of Isaac’s neck and lets his tears fall more freely.

They decide to display the caps at Derek’s house, since it’s the official pack house. Stiles isn’t sure which of them does it, but the caps are reverently mounted by the front door less than a day later.

The best thing about summer is that the temperatures have finally risen enough for the pack to enjoy the lake. Lo isn’t much of a water dog, but she wanders as far as the dock most days. More often than not, the younger members of the pack can be found down by the water.

Derek and Chris work together to install a raft about twenty feet from the dock, which Stiles likes to swim out to and settle down on to watch the sun rise over the lake on days when he can’t sleep.

Some of those days, he ends up in Derek’s bed; other days, in Lydia’s. The sleepless nights are fewer and further between as the months pass, but with each passing day Stiles feels more settled than ever, growing only more confident in his decision to attend school nearby, as does Lydia.

Suddenly, and without warning, Stiles realizes he only has a month left before he starts college.

He’s laying down on the dock with Lydia tanning beside him when the thought occurs to him. He sits up with a jolt, displacing Lo, who had fallen asleep with her head on Stiles’ shin.

“Stiles?” comes Lydia’s sleepy voice, turning around on her towel and shielding her face from the sun as she tries to get a better glimpse of him. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” he babbles eloquently. “We’re leaving in a month.”

Lydia sits up with a soft smile on her face. She scoots down to the edge of the dock and puts her feet in the water, letting them dangle down over the dock. She looks up at Stiles and pats the space next to her expectantly.

Stiles smiles in spite of himself and joins Lydia. He lets his feet lower into the cool water and leans into Lydia’s side.

“We’re not leaving, Stiles,” she says, closing her eyes and laying her head down his shoulder. “Not really. We’ll be coming back every weekend, and we’re only going to be an hour away.”

Stiles huffs. “Yeah, and I’m sure Isaac will be staying with us as much as with Chris.” He lets his head fall back with a fake groan. “Oh, I’m going to be sexiled from my own apartment, aren’t I?”

Lydia laughs, a wonderful sound that Stiles is so happy he gets to hear more often these days. “Yeah, like Derek won’t be visiting you, too.”

Stiles swallows convulsively, clearing his throat a few times before he hesitantly responds. “Well, sure he will, but we won’t – I mean, we haven’t.”

“I know,” Lydia cuts him off gently. “I get it, Stiles, don’t worry.” She pats his arm consolingly.

“He’s not gonna wait forever, I know that. And he’s been so good about doing things at my pace.” Stiles buries his head in his hands. “Gah, I just feel like I’m leading him on, playing hot and cold. I mean, we’ll go days without doing anything, then I’ll just get this urge to grab him and kiss him. And he lets me, you know?”

He looks up to find Lydia eyeing him speculatively. “Have you said any of that to him? Because I guarantee he doesn’t think you’re leading him on.”

Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but stops when Lydia raises her hand.

“Talk to him. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Stiles pouts, but relents. They sit at the edge of the dock, eyes closed and basking in the warm summer breeze. Lydia wraps her arms around Lo, who has climbed into her lap for nap, and watches the golden sunlight reflect on the shimmering surface of the water. When the sun begins to set over the lake, Stiles stretches his arms towards the darkening sky before hauling himself off the dock and offering a hand to Lydia.

He can already tell this is going to be a Stiles-can’t-sleep-alone night, so he doesn’t put on the charade of going down to his room after dinner. Instead, he just shucks off his jeans and socks and climbs right into the big bed in Derek’s room.

Lo follows him, tail wagging, and jumps up onto the bed behind him.

Stiles can hear Derek and Lydia chatting in the living room for a bit, and he starts to nod off. He’s woken from his half-slumber a little while later when Derek closes his bedroom door and shuts off the lights. 

He takes one look at Stiles’ wide, beseeching eyes and chuckles. “I’m little spooning it tonight, aren’t I?”

Stiles nods and tries not to smile too widely, chest warm and afloat at the thought of Derek knowing his silent expressions so well. Derek finishes getting ready for bed and climbs in beside Stiles, turning and presenting his back to the younger man.

Stiles wastes no time in wrapping his arms around him. Despite the tumultuous thoughts that had raced through his head all day, Stiles falls asleep in minutes.


	20. Don't provoke him

“Derek, there’s a werewolf in one of my classes,” Stiles insists about a week into his first semester at St. Cloud State. “And I can practically hear you rolling your eyes over the phone,” he pouts.

Derek laughs. “Stiles, are you sure? There are no active packs in the area, and usually when a werewolf goes out of state for college, they go somewhere with a local pack so they won’t be alone. It wouldn’t make sense for a single werewolf to be there now.”

Stiles throws the hand that’s not holding the phone up in the air. He collapses onto the sole couch in the living room of his shared apartment with Lydia. “I don’t know that to tell you. I’m sure he’s at least supernatural. He sat in the back of the classroom, flinched at every loud noise, and sneezed when a girl three rows in front of him reapplied her perfume in the middle of the lecture.”

Derek considers it for a few seconds, letting Stiles stew in the meantime. “Well, don’t provoke him,” he finally warns. “I’ll be down there to visit in a few days; I’ll check it out then.”

“Ok,” Stiles concedes easily. “Now tell me how you’re surviving on your own with me and Lydia gone. Are you doing ok?” Stiles asks with mock concern.

“Stiles, you know I lived on my own just fine before you two invaded my house.”

They bicker back and forth for another twenty minutes, until whatever anxiety Stiles has been feeling about the unknown wolf subsides. 

Then Stiles, being Stiles, does the most Stiles-like thing imaginable. He provokes the werewolf.

Stiles does his research before formulating a plan. He’s able to find out the kid’s name and course schedule, but the internet is frustratingly unhelpful past that. The guy doesn’t even have any social media accounts. 

Before class that morning, Stiles throws on one of the shirts he stole from Derek that smells like him. 

He walks into the lecture hall and takes a seat in the back, so there is only one chair separating him from Anthony. He sees Anthony’s back go rigid after taking a big breath in. His nostrils flare and he looks away, as if to hide his eyes flashing at the scent of a new werewolf.

Stiles knows none of this is proof, so he starts singing Kelly Clarkson under his breath, low enough so only supernatural ears can pick it up.

He chances a look under his lashes at Anthony and is startled to see that not only can he hear Stiles, but he looks like he’s struggling to gain control of his wolf. Stiles can see the claw marks on the armrests between the seats, far more than could have been made during just this class period. 

A surge of sympathy runs through Stiles and without thinking, he shoots his hand out to grab one of Anthony’s.

Anthony responds instinctively, turning his palm up and grabbing at Stiles’ hand. His breath is still coming in sharp bursts, but he is able to focus all his anxiety on their joined hands. 

He squeezes a bit too tightly, eliciting a hiss from Stiles. Anthony’s head shoots up and Stiles can see him mouth, ‘human?’

Stiles nods and surreptitiously scoots into the chair that had been separating them. He breaths in and out exaggeratedly, gesturing for Anthony to do the same. 

They miss the whole lecture, but since it’s essentially a college class teaching you how to take college classes, Stiles figures they’ll be ok.

The lecture hall empties out, leaving Stiles still holding Anthony’s hand in the back. 

“You –” Anthony seems to be at a loss for words, so Stiles just nods.

“It’s ok, buddy. Let’s get you outta here. I can’t imagine it smells too good with all of us packed in here like sardines in a can.” Stiles stands, letting Anthony keep hold of his hand.

For the first time since the beginning of class, Anthony relaxes while he laughs. “No,” he agrees. “It smells awful in here.”

When Anthony finally stands, Stiles gets a good look at him. He’s not quite as short as Lydia, but he’s close. His skin is pale against his dark brown hair and he looks like he hasn’t had a good meal in weeks. 

“Are you an omega?” Stiles blurts out. He immediately feels shame spreading through his face upon seeing Anthony taken aback by the question. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, that’s rude. You don’t have to answer that, Anthony, seriously, I’m sorry.”

But Anthony just shakes his head. “It’s ok. No, I’m not.” He shines his eyes at Stiles, revealing them to be beta gold. “And you can call me Tony.”

Stiles nods, unsure how to proceed. So he shrugs and leads Tony out of the lecture hall, into the courtyard. 

“Why do you smell like wolf?” Tony asks him quietly, letting go of Stiles’ hand as he takes in a deep breath of fresh air. 

“I’m part of a pack. The shirt, it belongs to my… my Derek,” Stiles finishes lamely. “He’s a wolf. Kind of our de facto Alpha.”

Tony nods, though his eyes betray his confusion. Stiles laughs. “Come on, there’s a diner across the street. Let me buy you some lunch and I’ll tell you all about our friendly pack of misfit toys.”

By the time Stiles finishes telling Tony about the kanimas, hunters, bezerkers, and chimeras, Tony’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Stiles leaves out the part about the Nogitsune, not really ready to talk about that chapter of the story to a stranger quite yet. And obviously he doesn’t bring up Donovan.

“So yeah, Lyds and I hightailed it out of there and came up here to live with Derek as soon as we could.” Stiles only feels a little guilty about reaching across the table to steal one of Tony’s curly fries; the kid only ate half of his burger and spent the last few minutes pushing the fries around on his plate.

Tony clears his throat. “So… you mean to tell me you’re THE Stiles? Stiles Stilinski?”

Stiles’ response gets caught in his throat. He takes a big swig of his water before he’s able to respond. “You’ve heard of me?”

Tony nods emphatically. “My grandpa talks about you all the time. You’re the human from California. The one who runs with wolves. You –” he lowers his voice and leans forward. “You conquered a Nogitsune.”

Stiles lowers his head and closes his eyes for a second before he speaks again. “Yeah,” he confirms in a fake unaffected tone that he’s sure isn’t fooling anyone. “But that particular victory didn’t come without its consequences,” he says bitterly.

Thankfully, Tony doesn’t push.

“Right, so what about you?” Stiles asks in an attempt to deflect the attention away from himself. 

Stiles doesn’t have to be a wolf to know that Tony’s scent turns sour with grief at the question. “It was hunters,” he says quietly. “We used to be a pretty big pack. We lived about half an hour from here.”

He looks up and Stiles nods at him to continue.

“Three years ago, there was this group of hunters passing through our territory. They weren’t gonna do anything to us because we hadn’t hurt anyone. But then they got word that one of their hunting buddies was killed by a rogue omega in Florida and they just went crazy.” Tony’s eyes glass over as he recalls the incident.

“My mom was the Alpha. My dad and two of my uncles were betas. My one cousin was human. Then there was my grandpa, but that was it.” Tony sniffs and takes a sip of water to give himself a break. 

“Grandpa had taken me fishing for the weekend, so we weren’t home. One by one, we felt the pack bonds snap. We were stuck in the middle of the lake when grandpa’s eyes turned red. By the time we made it home, they were all dead and the hunters were long gone.” Tony’s voice grows quieter throughout his story, and by the end it is barely audible.

Stiles reaches over the table and holds his hand palm up, offering it to Tony. After wiping his eyes, Tony takes it and holds on for a few minutes while they sit in silence.

With his other hand, Stiles dials Derek.

“You provoked the werewolf, didn’t you?” Derek asks after picking up on the first ring.

“Mhm.”

“I’m on my way.”


	21. I belong to the Hale pack

After Derek hangs up, Stiles squeezes Tony’s hand and pulls his own back onto his lap. “Do you want to call your grandpa?” he asks gently.

Tony uses the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes again and takes a deep, steadying breath. Wordlessly, he reaches into his pocket and dials his Alpha. 

They have a quiet, but rushed, conversation. Stiles does his best not to listen, but they’re sitting so close together it’s hard not to.

“He’ll be here soon,” he tells Stiles, somewhat unnecessarily. 

They sit in their booth, speaking occasionally, until the bell at the front of the diner dings to announce a new arrival. Stiles sees Tony’s shoulders slump in resignation and he knows right away that it’s his grandpa who has arrived.

Stiles slides out of the booth and turns around to greet the man. He offers the wolf his hand to shake in an attempt to appear non-threatening. 

After looking Stiles up and down, the Alpha takes his proffered hand.

“My name is Stiles, sir. I go to school with Tony.” He waits until the man is seated by Tony to resume his own seat.

“I know who you are, Mr. Stilinski. My name is Byron.” He lets his eyes flash red for a few seconds before allowing them to bleed back to a soft brown. 

The first thing that strikes Stiles about Byron is how exhausted he looks. His hair is the same dark brown as Tony’s and his skin is just as pale. Like the boy, Byron looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

Stiles nods respectfully. “You can call me Stiles. I apologize for any stress I may have caused you or Tony. I hadn’t realized that – I hadn’t realized,” he trails off.

“I thought you lived in California,” Byron starts with a frown. “How is it that you ended up here? Did the McCall pack relocate?”

Stiles cleared his throat and tried not to flinch at the mention of Scott’s pack. “I moved up here several months ago. I am no longer a member of the McCall pack. I belong to the Hale pack now.”

Byron’s eyes widen at the declaration. “I am only aware of three living Hales, and to my knowledge none of them are Alphas.”

“That’s true,” comes a voice from behind Byron and Tony. 

Stiles looks up and smiles when he sees Lydia. He scoots over in his seat and allows her to slide in next to him.

Byron looks between Lydia and Stiles suspiciously, trying to hide his embarrassment at having been startled by Lydia’s arrival.

Lydia continues as if nothing has happened. “Peter and Cora Hale are not Alphas. Neither is Derek, though that’s only because he gave up his Alpha power to save Cora’s life when she was gravely injured by the Alpha Pack.”

Byron looks impressed, but says nothing.

Stiles nudges Lydia and looks at Byron and Tony pointedly. “Oh,” she sighs. “I’m Lydia Martin; I’m a part of the Hale pack as well.”

Tony smiles and turns towards his grandpa. “This is the banshee you told me about!” He sees the surprised looks on Lydia and Stiles’ faces and elaborates briefly. “Grandpa makes a point of knowing as much as he can about other supernatural packs.”

“And why is that?” Lydia asks keenly, with a glint in her eye that leads Stiles to believe she knows exactly why.

“That is neither here nor there,” Byron responds shortly, closing the subject to further debate.

The four of them chat for about half an hour, Stiles even eliciting a chuckle from Byron at one point, until Derek and Isaac arrive.

Stiles smirks when he takes in Derek’s disheveled state. To an outsider, he looks perfectly calm, but Stiles can see that his eyes are a little wider than normal and his hair looks like it has been pulled on for the last hour that they were in the car.

Lydia stands up, knowing Derek will want to sit in between them on the bench. She tilts her head up wordlessly to allow Derek to run his hand over her cheek and her throat; it has been almost a week since he had last scent marked her.

Isaac grabs a chair from a table nearby and pulls it to the end of their booth, pressing a brief kiss to Lydia’s lips before sitting down.

Lydia chuckles under her breath at Derek when she sees that he has pulled Stiles almost onto his lap. She sits down and makes the required introductions.

“Derek Hale,” Byron greets with the bow of his head. “I didn’t know your mother, but I had the honor of meeting your father several times.”

Derek sits up straighter at that, tightening his grip on Stiles’ shoulder. “You did?” he asks, sidetracked temporarily.

Byron nods. “Your family was looking into buying some property not far from here. Robert visited us several times during the process, but he and your mother ultimately decided against purchasing the land in our territory.”

When Derek seems too stunned to speak, Byron continues gently. “You were very young at the time, maybe three or four. I recall during one visit, your father left a meeting with our Alpha, my daughter, quite abruptly. Apparently you had refused to go to sleep without your father singing to you.” Byron frowns slightly as if trying to remember more. “It was a Beatles song if I recall correctly.”

“Eleanor Rigby,” Derek says hoarsely. He clears his throat but his eyes remain glassy and far away. “It was the only song he could remember all the lyrics to, and he didn’t know any lullabies. I – I’d forgotten…”

Byron clasps his hands together and lays them on the table. Tony looks at his grandfather uncertainly and stays silent.

“Derek,” prompts Lydia softly.

Derek shakes his head, his eyes refocusing. “Thank you, Alpha Helms.”

Byron smiles politely. “Please, call me Byron.”

“Byron,” Derek repeats. “First, allow me to apologize. I did not realize there was a pack so close to this campus; I would have, of course, requested a meeting with you before sending my pack mates into your territory for school.”

Byron holds up a hand to stop him. “No apology necessary, Derek. There are not many who know that the Helms pack still exists, however small we are,” he adds with a wink to Tony.

Tony smiles, but it turns sour when his thoughts no doubt turn to his lost family members.

“Besides,” he continues swiftly. “Your pack does not have an Alpha to have requested the meeting.”

Derek nods, conceding the point. “That is true; we do not have an Alpha.”

“I must say,” says Byron cautiously. “Your pack seems quite well adjusted, considering there is no visible hierarchy. You have no desire to become an Alpha?”

Derek bristles at the question, but takes a deep breath and grabs Stiles’ hand to calm himself before responding. “It’s… better that I am not.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Byron tries again. “As I understand it, you gave up your Alpha power to save your sister, is that right?”

“Well, yes,” Derek agrees begrudgingly. “But before that, I –”

“Was facing an impossible set of circumstances,” interrupts Stiles fiercely. “Circumstances that required you to do things as an Alpha that you never would have if you’d had the choice.” Stiles leans forward to whisper in his ear, not caring that the wolves at the table would hear him anyway. “You are a good man, please remember that.”

Derek’s eyes slip closed for a second before he opens them and looks down into his lap. He regains his composure and meets Byron’s eyes. “In any event, no, we do not have an Alpha.”

Byron’s discerning gaze flits over Stiles, Isaac, and Lydia, before landing on Derek. There’s a palpable silence at the table while everyone waits for Byron to speak.

“Very well. Since it appears that at least Tony and Stiles will continue to overlap in their course work, I propose that our two packs get to know each other. I will admit it does make me feel a little better knowing Tony will have someone nearby who is well acquainted with the supernatural.”

Derek breathes out in relief. “It makes me feel better as well, knowing there are others closer than I am to Stiles and Lydia while they are in school.”

“Awesome,” Isaac chimes in, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Who’s hungry?”


	22. Are you sure?

They part amicably about an hour later. Byron and Derek exchange phone numbers, as do Stiles, Lydia, and Tony. As soon as Derek, Stiles, Isaac, and Lydia all get back to Stiles and Lydia’s apartment, Derek wastes no time in guiding Stiles over to the couch.

Stiles lets himself be manhandled so he’s laying down with Derek’s body completely draped over him.

Isaac takes Lydia into her room to do a little scent marking of their own in private.

“Feeling better?” Stiles asks, slightly muffled. His left hand is carding through Derek’s hair while his right is rubbing soothing circles on the man’s back.

He can feel Derek pout against his collarbone. “Not yet.”

Stiles huffs a laugh and tilts his head back, giving Derek full access to rub his face all over the smooth column of his throat.

Derek growls under his breath as he does just that. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he says after several minutes, once he’s finally content that Stiles smells more like the pack than Byron or Tony.

“Yeah,” Stiles drawls, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Derek goes with him easily, but wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulder when they are upright. Stiles leans into the wolf, wrapping his arm around his waist in return.

“You did that to provoke Tony?” Derek asks, sounding distinctly displeased.

Stiles nods into Derek’s chest. Derek grumbles and shakes his head, pressing a kiss into Stiles’ hair. “I don’t like you taking risks like that.”

“I know,” Stiles whispers. “I’m sorry. But it looks like everything’s turning out ok, right?”

“Yeah, this time. You were lucky,” grunts Derek begrudgingly. “Though it’ll be good to have allies.”

“Friends, Derek,” Stiles corrects him softly, pulling back to look at his face. “In times of peace, they’re just called friends.”

Derek’s face smoothes out from the frown he’d been wearing as he considers Stiles’ words. Eventually, the corners of his mouth tick upwards.

Derek takes a deep breath and dips his head down slowly, giving Stiles a chance to pull away. Stiles leans closer instead, meeting Derek halfway.

This kiss feels different than the others; less hopeful and more steady. Stiles groans into Derek’s mouth and rearranges them so he’s straddling the man’s legs.

He deepens the kiss, running his hands through Derek’s hair and gripping tightly.

Derek responds in kind, planting one hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and the other under his thigh.

Stiles whines deep in his throat when Derek’s tongue hesitantly darts out of his mouth. He opens his in response and sags against Derek’s chest like the strings holding him upright had been cut.

Derek growls possessively, losing himself in Stiles. They continue to kiss fiercely, wild and uninhibited, until Stiles has to pull back to breathe.

“That was… different,” he pants against Derek’s mouth. 

Derek’s eyes are glassy, pupils blown as he nods dumbly. “Bad different?” he asks as he starts to come back to himself.

Stiles shakes his head emphatically before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Derek’s nose. “No, definitely not bad different.”

He leans back out of Derek’s space, breathing heavily. He takes a second to compose himself before situating so that he’s facing Derek with a few inches between their legs. “Do you… Do you remember when you brought me to one of your therapy sessions in June?” Stiles asks hesitantly.

Derek nods, frowning at the sudden change in subject. “You said that you could see how much my therapist was helping me, but that since there were so many other changes being made in your life – finishing high school, moving, choosing a college – that you wanted to see if your lifestyle changes would help you start to heal before pursuing therapy yourself.”

Stiles stills at the words. He swallows thickly before launching himself on top of Derek again. Derek huffs, startled, but catches Stiles easily. 

He buries his head into Derek’s chest and stays there for a few seconds, trying to find the words to express how he’s feeling. 

Derek’s arms wrap around Stiles’ shoulders and hold him there. He rubs his cheek over Stiles’ head, back and forth until Stiles is able to speak again.

“That’s almost exactly what I said,” Stiles manages, his face muffled by Derek’s chest. “I can’t believe you remembered all of that.”

Derek presses a soft kiss to the top of Stiles’ head. “I remember everything you say,” he replies, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to admit.

Stiles blows out a harsh breath. “Wow, you’re making this so much easier.” He sits up again and meets Derek’s eyes. “So, you know how you’ve been completely incredible about not pressuring me, and helping me, and waiting until I was ready to start a relationship with you?”

Derek smiles. “It rings a bell, yeah.”

“Well, I was going to wait until you visited next week to ask you this.” Stiles gulps audibly. “But I was wondering if you would want to go to dinner with me? Like a date,” he clarifies immediately.

Derek’s responding grin is blinding. His eyes crinkle up in the corners and his nose scrunches adorable. “Stiles, are you sure?” he asks without dropping the smile even a little.

Stiles, who has no choice but to smile in return at the sight of Derek’s unbridled joy, can only nod vigorously.

They kiss lazily but ecstatically for awhile until they are startled apart by the sound of the front door opening. 

“When did you guys leave?” Stiles asks, tipping his head in confusion at the sight of Isaac and Lydia entering the house.

Isaac just chuckles at the two of them and makes his way into the kitchen to unload the groceries they had picked up.

“About twenty minutes ago,” supplies Lydia, tapping Derek’s feet. He sits up and tucks them underneath himself, leaving Lydia a spot on the couch so she can sit. “You guys were a little preoccupied so I gave Isaac a quick tour of the campus and then we grabbed some stuff for dinner.”

“You should see the way people on campus look at her,” Isaac tells them from the kitchen, his voice bursting with pride. “It’s like high school, except more admiration than fear.”

Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder, looking pleased.

Stiles chuckles as he rearranges himself so he’s tucked under Derek’s arm. “Yeah, Lyds is definitely the smartest person here, and that’s including some of the teachers.”

She preens at the praise and flips on the TV. Isaac joins them after putting the groceries away and the four of them settle in to watch an old movie.

After the movie, Lydia presses a swift kiss to Isaac’s lips and stands up with a flourish. “Ok, Derek, let’s go.”

It’s a testament to their relationship that Derek just accepts her hand and follows her out the front door without a word or any idea where they are going.


	23. You're on

Stiles shakes his head with a chuckle and stands up as well, stretching the aches out of his bones. “You want some help with dinner?” he asks Isaac, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

“I thought you were taking Derek out tonight?” Isaac counters wryly, making his way towards the refrigerator. 

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help – hey!” Stiles points a finger at the laughing beta’s back accusingly. “Eavesdropping!”

Isaac shrugs, unconcerned, and shoots Stiles a genuine smile. “I was just checking to see if the coast was clear before Lydia and I left her room. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I’m really happy for you, man.”

Stiles blushes a little and ducks his head. He walks over and claps Isaac on the shoulder once before turning his attention to the food laid out on the counter, desperate for a distraction from their conversation.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, about ten minutes later. He drops the knife he’d been using to chop the onions and stares at Isaac with wide eyes. “I’m going on a date with Derek tonight.”

Isaac looks at him like he’s crazy. “Yeah, I know. We just talked about that.”

Stiles shakes his head erratically. “No, I mean I’m going on a date with Derek tonight,” he repeats in a higher pitch, imploring Isaac to understand his panic.

“Oh, no,” Isaac says warily, setting down the pasta box he’d been holding. “This is the freaking out part, isn’t it? I’m not good with this part. Can we skip this part?” He darts behind the kitchen island in an attempt to put as much space between himself and Stiles as possible.

Stiles just follows him with quick, panicked steps. “Isaac, what am I supposed to talk about? Am I supposed to hold the door open for him? Does he drive or do I? What do I wear?” His eyes widen with each question until they’re as wide as saucers.

Isaac, still looking supremely uncomfortable, takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “Ok, this is not something I do. I don’t give the advice. So we’re gonna do this once and if you ever tell anyone what I’m about to say, I’ll rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth?” Stiles asks, unable to help himself.

“Stiles.”

Stiles holds his hands up innocently. “Sorry, sorry.” 

Isaac huffs. “Do you want my help or not?”

Stiles nods desperately, looking at Isaac like he holds the answers to all the questions in the world.

After a deep breath in and a quick breath out, Isaac steps forward so he’s right in front of Stiles. “Derek is a closet romantic, you know that.” Stiles nods again, prompting Isaac to continue. “So he’ll probably want to drive, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t hold all the doors open for you – he’s just polite like that and his werewolf side is going to kind of go into overdrive. Wear the dark jeans Lydia forced you to buy when you guys went shopping a few weeks ago, and the red button down I know you own but never wear. And as far as what to talk about, I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that one.” He shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Talk about what you always talk about – literally every thought that pops into your head at any given moment. For some reason, Derek finds that charming.”

Stiles is still for a few seconds after Isaac is done speaking. Isaac leans forward, concern etched on his face, before he’s forced backwards by the strength of Stiles’ sudden hug.

Stiles pulls back and presses a sloppy kiss to Isaac’s cheek with a loud cartoon smack. “Isaac, buddy, I love you. Seriously,” he calls to his friend as he retreats up the stairs to his room. 

“Where are you going?” Isaac calls after him, rubbing his slobbery cheek with the back of his hand.

“Gotta get – oof,” Stiles is cut off when he trips on the top stair. “Gotta get ready!” he finishes as he rights himself and continues running into his room.

Isaac just scoffs and picks up cutting the onion where Stiles left off. He keeps an ear out in case Stiles hurts himself while changing his clothes, but loses himself in the cooking pretty quickly. 

He hears the soft lilt of Lydia’s voice before she and Derek have made the turn onto their street. He smiles involuntarily and goes to open the door. Lydia greets him with a soft kiss and flounces up the stairs as if she knows somehow that Stiles is in his room freaking out.

Derek tunes his hearing towards Stiles’ room and smiles when he hears Lydia’s voice telling the man to calm down. He shakes his head and tunes them out so he can help Isaac finish preparing dinner.

The two work well together now. Now that neither of their lives are in danger and they get to live instead of survive.

Their eyes meet over the island and Isaac spares him a knowing smirk. Derek tries to growl menacingly, but it has no effect on Isaac. A few minutes later, Derek wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven and grabs one of the bags he’d brought in after his impromptu shopping excursion with Lydia.

He changes in the downstairs bathroom, emerging after only ten minutes. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a dark blue satin button up that makes his eyes look fierce.

Stiles chooses that moment to fumble down the stairs. He takes one look at Derek and forgets how to breathe. He stands on the bottom stair, slack-jawed, until Lydia clears her throat pointedly behind him. When Stiles shakes himself out of his moment, he’s absurdly pleased to find that Derek is wearing a similar look of amazement at Stiles’ appearance.

Isaac laughs and waves the hand towel at the two of them. “Go, be gone. Get out of there with all of your lusty smells.”

Stiles blushes beautifully at that, causing Derek to lose his footing on the flat floor and stumble slightly. He rights himself and races to the door to hold it open for Stiles. He hears Isaac whisper something that sounds like, “I told you so,” to Stiles, but ignores him in favor of staring at Stiles for a few more seconds before they leave.

Since it’s a nice night, they decide to walk instead of drive. The restaurant they end up at is nice, but not too fancy. Their choices are limited, but neither of them mind at all. 

The conversation flows naturally, which surprises them both. About halfway through their meal, Stiles frowns.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks, his mind immediately replaying the last few seconds in his head to see what he’d done wrong. 

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times before responding. “Shouldn’t this feel… I don’t know, different?” he asks quietly.

Derek shrugs. “I’m having a good time.”

Stiles smiles and reaches forward to grip Derek’s hand. “So am I,” he assures him. “I just mean – I feel like this is just like all the other times we’ve hung out. Easy, you know? This should feel different, but it doesn’t. It’s our first real date, shouldn’t there be like butterflies or nerves or awkward fumbling to fill the silence?”

“I doubt very much that any date that includes you would require someone to fill a silence,” Derek answers wryly.

Stiles kicks him under the table, but laughs.

Derek squeezes Stiles’ hand while he contemplates his answer more fully. “I think maybe it’s because we already know each other. I’ve never done this with someone I was already close with. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, sighing in relief. “Yeah, I think you might be right. I guess we just skip the whole, ‘where are you from,’ and ‘so, do you have any siblings,’ part that people normally go through on first dates.”

“So, do we skip to, like, twentieth date questions instead?” Derek asks with a twinkle in his eye.

Stiles squints at his face suspiciously before his expression slowly clears into something more mischievous. “Derek Hale, are you suggesting we ask each other invasive personal questions?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Derek responds dryly, not backing down.

“Oh, you’re on.”

Half an hour later, Stiles is pretty sure they’ve sufficiently scarred their server for life. He’d had the misfortune of refilling Stiles’ water glass right as Derek asked for Stiles’ dirtiest sexual kink, and had brought Derek’s dessert while he was answering Stiles’ question about the most consecutive days he’s gone without pooping.

Derek is laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes as they walk back to Stiles and Lydia’s apartment.


	24. Just like that?

Stiles intertwines their fingers when they reach the front door, staunchly ignoring the pleasant swooping sensation in his stomach as he does.

When they both regain their composure from their latest laughing fit, Derek pulls Stiles to a stop. He reaches up with his free hand and runs his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone, wrapping his fingers lightly around the man’s jaw. 

Stiles shivers at the contact and closes his eyes. Derek leans forward and presses their lips together. 

Stiles expects it to be a quick little thing, but Derek deepens the kiss almost immediately. Stiles’ hands find their way to Derek’s head, lodging themselves in the man’s hair.

A groan escapes Derek’s mouth and Stiles rushes to chase it with his own. After a few heated minutes, Derek pulls back and rests his forehead on Stiles’. 

“Whyyy,” Stiles whines, opening his eyes with a pout.

Derek chuckles and places a quick kiss on Stiles’ lips before taking a step backwards. “If we kept going like that, I’d lose myself in you. I want to take this slow,” he says, looking down at his feet shyly.

Stiles sighs happily and reaches forward to tip Derek’s head up. “Okay,” he agrees simply.

Derek frowns in confusion. “Just like that?”

“Mmhmm,” Stiles nods. He leans forward and kisses Derek’s cheek lightly before staring lovingly into his speckled multicolored eyes. “Derek, I didn’t decide I was ready to date you just to get you into bed. I realized I was happy for the first time in a long time, and I’ve been sleeping better these past few months than I have in over a year, and I want to move forward with my life and with you. I know sex isn’t something you take lightly, and I love you, so it’s the least I can do to be as patient with you as you’ve been with me –”

“You love me?” Derek interrupts with a dumbstruck smile on his face.

Stiles’ eyes widen as he thinks back on the words he’s said. “Oh.” He chuckles at himself and rubs the back of his neck nervously, desperately looking anywhere but at Derek’s face. “Yeah, I do. I guess that’s not really taking it slow, is it?”

Derek darts forward and captures Stiles’ lips with his own. His hands ground themselves on Stiles’ waist as he pulls the younger man closer to his body. Stiles responds in kind, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and squeezing tightly so their chests are pressed together.

“I love you, too,” Derek pants when they part a minute later. 

Stiles’ answering smile is blinding. The two lock eyes and stand outside the front door for several minutes, simply looking at each other.

When Stiles feels like his heart is bursting with more happiness and love than he can stand, he takes Derek’s hand and leads him inside. “So, what do you say we put on some Brooklyn Nine-Nine and make out on the couch for a bit?”

Derek laughs quietly and takes his shoes off, kicking them towards the wall by the front door. “I say yes. When have you ever known me to turn down some Captain Holt?”

Stiles scoffs. “You basically are Captain Holt.” He kicks off his own shoes at the door before heading over to the living room. He angles his laptop on the coffee table so they can both see the screen from their corner of the couch.

Derek settles against the arm of the couch and pulls Stiles so he’s halfway on his lap. He presses a kiss to Stiles’ head while Stiles queues up the next episode. “Does that make you Kevin?”

“Oh, please. We both know I’m Rosa.” He presses play and leans back into Derek’s chest. 

“You are so not Rosa,” Derek disagrees. “If anything, you’re Jake.”

They argue lightly about their respective characters for so long they forget about the making out part of their original plan. They’ve just assigned Cora the role of Rosa when they’re interrupted by Isaac traipsing down the stairs completely naked.

“Isaac!” Stiles yelps, slapping his hand to his face to cover his eyes. 

Derek lets out a resigned snort and kisses the back of Stiles’ neck with a grin. 

Isaac just shrugs unrepentantly. “Couldn’t find my boxers,” he supplies as way of explanation. 

“I could have gone my whole life without seeing you naked and been perfectly happy about it,” Stiles groans. 

“Why would I want to deprive you of that experience, Stiles?” Isaac asks wryly while digging into the pantry. “Aha!” he exclaims happily when he finds his target.

Stiles creates a slot between his fingers and peeks into the kitchen curiously to see what Isaac has found. “Oh my god,” he exclaims weakly at the sight of Isaac holding chocolate sauce. “Isaac, do me a favor?”

Isaac raises his eyebrow mischievously and gestures for Stiles to continue. 

“Don’t ever tell me what you’re about to do with that.”

Isaac smirks and runs back up the stairs to Lydia’s room, chocolate sauce in hand.

“Derek,” Stiles pouts, turning around in the man’s arms. “Hold me; I’ve just been scarred for life.”

Derek laughs into Stiles’ hair and tightens his grip around the younger man’s waist. He presses his nose to the side of Stiles’ head to get him to look up. “Here,” Derek says playfully, leaning in to kiss Stiles. “I’ll distract you.”

The next few weeks pass by happily and uneventfully. Stiles sits next to Tony to help with his control during their shared class, and soon Tony becomes a semi-permanent fixture in Stiles and Lydia’s apartment. It’s not irregular for Lydia to come home to find Stiles and Tony battling it out over some Mario Kart after a long day of classes.

Lydia continues to rule the campus, with students and teachers alike fawning over her intelligence and poise. She and Isaac are going strong, and about three times a week, Stiles is thankful that he has Tony nearby so he can seek refuge in the werewolf’s single dorm room whenever he’s been sexiled.

Before Stiles knows it, it’s the day before Halloween. He, Lydia, and Tony try to do the whole costume party thing, but between Tony’s sensitivity to scents and Lydia and Stiles’ discomfort with loud noises and crowds, they only last about half an hour at the first one they had planned to attend.

The three of them head back to the apartment to cut their losses and gorge themselves on Halloween candy, only to find that Derek and Isaac have driven down to see them.

“Ah,” Stiles exclaims happily, launching himself into Derek’s arms.

“Stiles, you saw him four days ago,” Isaac scoffs, pulling Lydia towards himself to rub their cheeks together.

Stiles ignores him and gives Derek a proper kiss hello before jumping down. Derek smiles at Stiles’ enthusiasm and kisses him back through his grin.

When they part, Derek makes his way to Lydia to scent mark her. He runs his hand over the top of her head, bringing it down over her ear and stopping at the back of her neck. He scents the air around her and nods in satisfaction before doing the same to Tony. 

Derek, Lydia, and Tony settle down in the living room while Stiles and Isaac argue about which movie to put in.

“Oh,” Derek says softly, as if coming to a startling realization. “Tony, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think –”

Tony frowns and cocks his head to the side. “Think about what?”

Stiles and Isaac quit their bickering long enough to turn their attention towards Derek.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow. “I scent marked you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Huh,” says Tony, frowning slightly. After a second, his face clears and he shrugs unconcernedly. “Doesn’t bother me. Actually, I think I might have been accidentally scenting Stiles and Lydia recently.”

Derek sniffs the air and nods. “Yeah, you have been. We should talk to your grandfather.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “Oh, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Derek rushes to reassure him, subconsciously reaching out to place his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “It’s something that happens when members of two packs start spending a lot of time together. We just need to talk to him in case there’s any reason he doesn’t want our packs getting this close.”

“I doubt that’s the case,” Lydia offers with an all-knowing smirk.

Isaac whines and sits down on the floor in front of Lydia’s spot on the couch. “Why is it that you always look like you know something the rest of us don’t?”

“Because she does always know something we don’t,” Derek grumbles, faking a glare in Lydia’s direction. Lydia winks back, and turns her attention to brushing her hand through Isaac’s curls.

Tony snickers, but sobers quickly. “I’ll call Grandpa in the morning.”

They sit comfortably for the next few hours, watching movies and taking turns keeping Isaac out of their candy stash.


	25. Happy Halloween, pup

As it turns out, Byron has no problem with their two packs getting closer. In fact, Tony says he encourages the scent marking and even requests that they spend Thanksgiving together the following month.

Derek frowns in confusion when Tony relays the message, but spends the rest of Halloween day with a happy grin on his face. Stiles artfully says nothing about the smiles, but secretly takes great joy in how proud Derek looks at the prospect of an Alpha giving his pack a nod of approval.

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” Stiles asks, wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist from behind while the man melts caramel on the stove for caramel apples.

Derek turns his head so the side a bit, not taking his eyes off of the stove in front of him. “What do you mean?”

Stiles nuzzles the back of his neck before he responds. “Do you want to try and go to a party, do you want to dress up in the costume I know Lydia secretly got for you, or do you want to go home and spend the weekend on the lake? Since today’s Friday and I don’t have any classes, we could leave now.”

“Oh,” replies Derek uncertainly. Stiles gets a glimpse of a blush on the man’s cheek and his eyes widen as he sees it spread to the Derek’s neck. “I was thinking we could stay in and maybe hand out candy. I mean, I don’t get a lot of trick-or-treaters back home and I kind of… If you want to, that is.” He ducks his head and stirs the caramel mixture quietly for a few seconds, waiting for Stiles to respond.

Stiles lifts his head and places his chin on Derek’s shoulder, looking at his boyfriend’s handsome profile. “You’re a big softie, Derek Hale,” Stiles coos. “You came here because you want to hand out candy to the kids, didn’t you?”

Derek nods a few times while the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. “It’s something I used to do back home. Laura was supposed to, since she was next in line to be Alpha. Mom thought it would be a good idea for her to get to know some of the kids in the community and their parents. But she hated it, so she made me do it. I never told her, but I really loved it,” he admits quietly.

Stiles smiles brightly and plants a kiss on Derek’s shoulder before letting go of his waist and stepping backwards. “Ok, then that’s what we’ll do,” he says simply. 

He heads up the stairs to grab his car keys and calls out a quick goodbye before running out the door to buy more candy. If Derek wants to hand out candy, then they’re gonna be the place that hands out the best candy. 

The look on Derek’s face when he opens the door and sees the first round of trick-or-treaters is priceless. Stiles has never seen him look so soft and peaceful.

Derek hands out the candy meticulously, making sure none of the kids get any more or less than their friends. 

At about 8:30pm, after the visitors have started to die down, Isaac suddenly chuckles from the sofa. He’d taken over candy duty about half an hour ago.

“What is it?” Lydia asks almost disinterestedly from the kitchen where she’s putting away their dinner leftovers. 

“Derek?” Isaac calls in response towards the stairs. “You’re gonna wanna answer this one.” He holds out his arms for Lydia and smiles knowingly when the banshee settles herself onto his lap to watch the front door with interest.

Derek bounds down the stairs and grabs the candy bowl. Stiles is a few steps behind him and comes to a stop next to the door.

“Oh,” Derek says happily, perking up and changing into his beta shift. He smiles at the conversation he can hear in their driveway. 

Stiles frowns in confusion. Derek hasn’t used his shift all night.

Derek waits until there’s knock to open the door. On the other side is a little boy who can’t be older than four, dressed as a werewolf. He’s got pointy ears and a hairy face, and is even wearing a little clip-on tail. 

“Twick or tweet,” he lisps around the plastic fangs in his mouth. His eyes go wide when he sees Derek’s ‘costume.’ “Mom! Mom! He’s a werewolf, too!” He points at Derek’s face excitedly and jumps up and down.

Derek crouches down so they’re the same height. “That’s a great costume you’ve got there. You like werewolves?”

The little boy nods, entranced by Derek’s blue eyes. He clings onto his mother’s legs and answers from behind them. “Uh huh. They’re my fav’rite.”

Derek beams, showing off his fangs, and gives the boy a heaping handful of candy. 

“Woah,” he says, looking into his pillowcase with glee. “Thanks! Mom, did you see how much candy he gave me?” He opens his pillowcase wide and thrusts it into his mom’s face.

“I see, buddy, that’s great,” she responds with a grin. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths to Derek.

“Happy Halloween, pup,” Derek says to the boy, standing to full height and giving the little wolf’s mother a shy close-lipped smile.

Stiles, overcome with feelings of fondness and love for his wolf, pounces on him once Derek’s got the door closed. He wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, trusting the man to catch him. “That was adorable.”

“Yeah, he was, wasn’t he?” Derek replies, still smiling at the door. He puts the candy down and grabs the back of Stiles’ thighs to make sure he doesn’t fall. 

Stiles kisses him on the nose. “No, dummy, I’m talking about you. You’re adorable.”

Derek blushes and ducks his head. Stiles nuzzles into the wolf’s neck and sighs happily. 

“Isaac, Lyds, you guys can take care of the stragglers, right?” Stiles asks, not taking his eyes off of Derek’s electric blue ones. “I have a wolf to put to bed.”

Derek growls and hoists Stiles up into a bridal carry, taking the stairs two at a time. 

“Ew, what the hell happened to you two waiting?” Isaac calls after them.

“Just because we’re not having sex doesn’t mean we can’t give my bedroom an R rating in other ways, Argent!” Stiles yells back through his laughter. 

Derek shuts the door behind them and wastes no time in pouncing on Stiles.

Stiles is awoken the next morning to the sound of the front door closing. He finds a text on his phone from Isaac that simply says, ‘taking Lydia home to the lake for the weekend. You owe me one.’

Stiles snorts and puts his phone down before curling back into Derek’s arms.


	26. A present

“Where’s Derek?” asks Lydia as she bounds through the front door of the pack house. 

It’s Thanksgiving Break, so Stiles is spread out lazily in the living room watching TV with Isaac and Tony. Byron is set to meet them the next day for their joint Thanksgiving Day Extravaganza, or so Stiles has taken to calling it.

“He’s at the store,” Stiles offers as Lydia greets Isaac with a kiss. Stiles frowns at the front door Lydia has left open, but his unasked question is answered when Lydia jumps onto his lap. 

“I have a present for you,” she sing-songs, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his forehead with a loud smack. She gestures to the door just as a familiar figure waltzes in.

“Cora!” Stiles exclaims, taking care not to throw Lydia off of him too unceremoniously. He runs to the door and pulls the wolf into a hard embrace, which she begrudgingly returns. 

“Stilinski,” she responds coolly.

“My dad with you?” Stiles asks, craning his neck to see past Cora into the doorway. “Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he continues distractedly, still looking past her towards the porch.

“You didn’t think I’d miss Thanksgiving with my kid, did you?” his dad’s voice booms from the driveway. 

Stiles sprints down the front porch steps and flies into his father’s arms. The Sheriff huffs a laugh and drops the suitcase he had been carrying in an effort to return the embrace.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles sighs, releasing the man and stepping back. He keeps his hand on his father’s shoulder and leans back to get a good look at him. “You look great.” Stiles squints suspiciously. “Why do you look great? Has Cora actually been cooking healthy food for you?”

“I do know how to feed myself,” John grumbles, making his way towards the front door with his bag. “Grab that one, will you?” he asks Stiles, throwing a nod at the suitcase on the ground by the closed trunk. 

“Whose is this?” Stiles looks around to confirm that Cora already has her suitcase, and that his dad is carrying his own.

He hears a response from the other side of the car by the passenger door. “Mine.”

“Melissa,” Stiles cries out, scooping the woman up into a bear hug. A wave of emotion hits him suddenly. He lets go of Melissa and takes a step backwards, failing to keep his consternation off of his face. 

Melissa just places a hand on his cheek and smiles. “I’m not here to talk about Scott, Stiles. I just wanted to see you.”

Stiles nods, but doesn’t immediately feel relief. The tension stays in his shoulders throughout the tour he gives them of Derek’s house, and doesn’t quite dissipate until he sees Derek’s car turn into the driveway.

Derek takes one step into his house before he’s attacked by a Cora-shaped barnacle that winds itself around his waist. “Hey,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around his little sister.

Cora untangles herself from Derek and smacks the back of his head. “That’s for not sending me pictures of your dog.”

“I told you that was a thing,” Stiles adds, waltzing towards Derek and placing a kiss on the confused wolf’s cheek.

Derek ignores them both and places his hand on Stiles’ back, rubbing up and down softly. The tension seeps out of Stiles’ shoulders and he finds himself closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths.

When he opens them, Stiles finds his dad staring at the two of them speculatively. 

The sheriff quirks his eyebrow, but smiles faintly. Stiles can’t help but smile back as his dad approaches the door.

“Derek, good to see you,” the man says genially, holding his hand out for Derek to shake.

“Sheriff,” Derek greets in return, taking his hand.

John nods towards the front yard. “Why don’t we go for a walk? You can show me around your property.”

“Dad, I – ”

Derek cuts Stiles off with a kiss to his temple. “It’s fine,” he murmurs into Stiles’ hair. “Happy to,” he directs back at John, hand outstretched towards the door.

Stiles glares at the two as they exit, mumbling under his breath until his attention is caught by the sight of Cora and Isaac wrestling in the living room.

“Seriously, you guys? Go make yourselves useful and bring in the groceries from Derek’s car.” He rolls his eyes as they stand up and sulk out of the house. Stiles looks around and sees Melissa and Chris speaking in hushed whispers. He shares a look with Lydia, who shrugs.

“Tony?” Stiles asks, nodding towards the two adults. Tony shoots him a disappointed frown before angling his head so he can hear better. He stands up and approaches Lydia and Stiles, who have made their way to the top of the stairs where Lo is begging for attention.

“Who’s Scott?” Tony asks, bending down and scratching Lo behind her ears. 

Stiles’ shoulders droop. “Oh. I guess it makes sense that Chris would want to know how Scott’s doing.”

Lydia twines her fingers through Stiles’. “You should talk to her,” she suggests lowly, ducking her head around to meet Stiles’ eyes.

After a deep breath, Stiles nods. Ignoring Tony’s confused face for the moment, Stiles waits until Melissa and Chris are through talking before approaching the pair.

Chris breaks away to help Isaac and Cora put away the groceries, while Lydia takes Tony and Lo downstairs, no doubt to update Tony on some of the things he’s now curious about.

“Melissa?” Stiles starts, clearing his throat a few times nervously. He points towards the backyard bench. “Can we talk?”

Melissa just smiles and leads him outside. She sits down silently and watches as Stiles paces back and forth in front of her, fighting with himself over how to begin. 

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He breathes in the calming scent of the cold air and slightly tacky scent of the surrounding trees. He can hear Cora and Isaac bickering in the kitchen, and knows that they won’t eavesdrop on him. Not this time.

He opens his eyes and sits down next to the woman who had helped raise him after his own mother had died. “I don’t know how much Scott has told you…”

Melissa smiles grimly. “He told me everything, kiddo. About Theo, and the Dread Doctors, and –” she pauses and runs a hand over Stiles’ hair gently. “And about Donovan.”

Stiles’ eyes slam shut as he prepares for the flashes of death and screaming to come rushing into the forefront of his brain. But they never come. Instead, all he feels is the crispness of the slight breeze and the reassurance of Melissa’s hand that is suddenly gripping his.

Stiles opens his eyes again and finds himself shaking his head. Before he can speak, Melissa continues rapidly, as if to reassure Stiles of worries he never actually had to voice aloud.

“I haven’t told your father. And Scott told me it was self defense, Stiles. He also, albeit reluctantly, told me about his reaction to the whole situation. And he’s still paying for that, trust me,” she adds with a soft nudge to his shoulder.

They are silent for a few minutes while Stiles collects his thoughts. He squeezes Melissa’s hand and swallows. “I miss him,” Stiles lets out in a rush.

Melissa smiles. “He misses you, too. Why don’t you call him? It is Thanksgiving, after all. You know, a time for forgiveness.” She stands up and starts walking towards the house, leaving Stiles stunned in her wake.

He shakes his head and is surprised when a laugh bubbles its way into his throat. “Thanksgiving is a time for giving thanks, not for forgiveness,” he argues weakly.

Melissa turns around long enough to shoot him a cheeky wink. “Eh, I’ve heard it both ways.”

After she’s gone, Stiles takes out his phone and stares at Scott’s number for so long the screen turns black. He steels himself and wakes up his phone, pressing the call button before he can talk himself out of it.

Scott answers on the first ring, as if he’s been waiting by the phone for Stiles to call. “Stiles?” Stiles hears a thump that he’s come to recognize as Scott falling out of his bed. “Stiles, is that you?”

Stiles chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, buddy. It’s me.”


	27. Don't move

They talk for the better part of an hour; long enough for Derek and John to return from their walk. Stiles hangs up with Scott feeling lighter than he has in months.

Their relationship is not mended, and it won’t ever get back to where it was, but Stiles finds himself smiling as he walks back up the wooden stairs towards the back door.

He slides open the door and is met with the sound of contagious laughter coming from the kitchen and living room. The furniture in the living room and dining room has been pushed back against the walls, leaving a wide open space on the first floor. In it, Cora and Tony and sparring.

Isaac and Melissa are making bets with Lydia and Chris, arguing over who will win. “Ten bucks on Tony,” Isaac shouts over the ruckus, as Melissa nods along beside him.

“Deal,” agrees Chris, after a nod from Lydia.

Stiles laughs and joins Derek on the sidelines with his father. He wraps his chilly arm around Derek’s waist and sends his dad a warm, content smile. 

His dad returns the grin and rounds the kitchen island to grab a beer from the fridge.

“How’d the talk with my dad go?” Stiles asks Derek once his dad is out of earshot. 

But Derek just puffs out his chest proudly. 

“That well, huh?” Stiles rolls his eyes and tucks himself further into Derek’s warmth.

Derek nods and pulls Stiles tighter, content to watch his pack bond in silence for a while.

When the sparring was over (Cora won by a landslide), John, Isaac, Cora, and Tony set about putting the furniture back where it came from before heading downstairs to play some pool. Chris and Melissa commandeered the kitchen so they could catch up while making dinner for the pack. 

Lydia took Lo out for a quick walk, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the newly-restored living room.

“Oh, Scott told me Peter’s living in Beacon Hills now,” Stiles says as he leads Derek towards the couch. They sit facing the window, watching the tree branches sway in the breeze.

Derek’s eyebrows rise, but he says nothing.

Since he can tell that’s code for, ‘I want to know more, but I don’t want to seem too interested in my uncle’s shenanigans,’ Stiles continues. 

“Yeah, apparently he met some druid named Kyle and they’ve been seeing each other for a while. They’ve even helped Scott and his pack out a few times with some supernatural baddies over the past few months.” Stiles peeks up at Derek to see if he should go on. Derek’s quirked mouth indicates that he should.

“He’s been trying to get to know Malia more, which I think is good. Scott said Peter has even tried to approach Cora a few times. But I think he’s gonna have to try a little harder to weasel his way into that relationship.”

Derek huffs a laugh and breathes in deeply. “I’m glad,” he says after a few seconds of silence. “My mom used to say there should always be a Hale protecting Beacon Hills. I just never thought it would be Peter.”

They stay like that for a while, listening to the sounds to their pack bickering and laughing, until the mouthwatering scent of Melissa’s pre-Thanksgiving ham prompts them to get up and start setting the table.

Dinner that night is an uproarious affair. Cora takes to Tony like a moth to a flame and with a pang, Stiles recalls that she and Derek had a brother who would be just a year older than Tony is now. At one point, Tony starts to look overwhelmed by the sheer number of people at the table, and Cora takes him outside for a night run through the woods.

Stiles falls into Derek’s bed that night tired but ecstatic. The smile on his face doesn’t fade until sleep takes him, just minutes after Derek pulls him into his arms under the covers.

Stiles is awoken the next morning by the smell of coffee and the weight of two mischievous beta werewolves bouncing up and down on his legs and stomach. 

“Off,” he commands weakly, his eyes still closed. 

“But it’s Christmas!” Isaac whines. “Time to open presents!”

Stiles can hear a scuffle break out on the bed next to him after what he assumes is the sound of Cora smacking Isaac in the back of the head. 

He raises his head just long enough to see that Cora has Isaac pinned down. 

“Wake up, Stiles, you’re the only one who knows how to cook a turkey. And I did not fly all the way up to this frozen tundra to have a turkey-less Thanksgiving feast.”

Stiles rolls his eyes behind his closed eyelids, but sits up groggily. He looks around the room and can’t help but smile when he sees Derek walking towards him with a mug of coffee too cream-filled to be his own.

“I love you,” Stiles groans before taking a grateful sip.

“So you keep saying,” Derek responds fondly. He jumps over Stiles to tackle Cora, who lets out a very non-Cora-like yelp in surprise. Stiles leaps up, shielding his coffee from harm, and leaves his wolves to their wrestling.

Since Melissa, Chris, and Cora are the only other ones who can cook, Stiles banishes the rest of the pack from the kitchen for the remainder of the day. 

Unconcerned with their banishment, Derek, Lydia, Isaac, and Tony take John on a tour of the town.

Playing into the age-old Argent/Hale feud, Cora and Chris argue over every recipe they are to be cooking that day, so Stiles separates them early. Melissa swoops in and solicits Cora’s expertise on the stuffing and mashed potatoes, leaving Stiles to distract Chris with the green bean casserole, yams, and dinner rolls.

Byron arrives around midday. He is greeted formally by Cora, who had been warned of his arrival by Derek. 

The Alpha is initially, and understandably, wary of Chris, but is charmed in spite of himself by Chris’ immediate and adamant renouncing of Gerard and Kate’s ways.

Stiles makes sure to insert seemingly random stories of Chris’ assistance in their supernatural problems as the hours pass. To Cora’s credit, she only scoffs once.

By the time the others return from their tour, Melissa has Byron in stitches recounting some of the ways Scott and Stiles had attempted to cover up the fact that Scott had been turned their Sophomore year.

Meanwhile, Derek walks right up to the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room, strictly adhering to Stiles’ cooking boundaries.

“Don’t move,” Stiles whispers theatrically, meeting him at the borderline. “I think this whole pack thing might work out.”

Derek leans in and plants a kiss on Stiles’ mashed potato covered lips. He looks out over the rest of the floor and takes in his pack members interacting with each other. Stiles can feel the pride radiating off of Derek in waves.

“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “I think it just might.”


	28. Epilogue

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stiles asks, setting his bag down inside the pack house and walking straight towards the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

It’s the first day of summer before Stiles’ Senior year, and he’s really hoping to just spend the day on the lake after finishing his exhausting final exam schedule. 

“Nice to see you, too, Stilinski,” Jackson replies smarmily from the living room.

“Don’t start,” Lydia admonishes them both, standing up from the couch in the living room to join Stiles in the kitchen.

Ignoring Jackson, Stiles asks Lydia again. “What is he doing here?”

“I invited him,” comes Byron’s voice from the stairs. He is followed by Derek, Tony, and Chris. From the blue chalk stain on Tony’s hand, Stiles guesses they were playing pool.

Lydia smiles knowingly and takes the water bottle out of Stiles’ hand before rejoining Jackson, Cora (who had shown up the week before and told everyone that she was commandeering the guest room until the end of the summer), and Isaac on the couch. Stiles just shakes his head and grabs another one for himself.

Chris takes the armchair, so Stiles and Derek sit down on the fireplace ledge and look up at Byron. Byron and Tony are standing by the window, facing inwards towards the room.

“Are we about to find out why Lydia has spent the last few years acting like she knows some big secret?” Stiles asks, sending Lydia a wink from across the room.

Byron inclines his head in agreement. “Ah, yes. Lydia did, indeed, figure out my intentions, when would you say? Was it our first meeting?” he asks the banshee with a twinkle in his eye.

Lydia nods and sits up proudly from her seat in between Isaac and Jackson.

“Your intentions?” Derek repeats, frowning slightly. 

Byron clears his throat and stands up to his full height. “There is a reason I make a point of knowing as much as I can about supernatural packs throughout the country. Derek, do you recall how your mother came to be an Alpha?”

Stiles, beginning to understand what Byron was preparing to announce, locks wide eyes with Lydia as Derek responds.

“Yes,” the beta responds, still confused. “My grandmother passed the power down to her when she had become too weary to wield it any longer.”

Byron nods and takes a small step forward. “It was the same in my family. I passed my power down to my daughter, and she was to pass it down to her child when the time was right. However, as you know, she was killed before she was able to do so, and the power found its way back to me.”

Derek nods, his eyes beginning to glaze over in understanding. 

Stiles looks around at the rest of the pack and sees his own happiness and pride reflected in their faces. 

“Byron –” Derek begins, only to halt at the sight of Byron holding his hand out to stop him.

“I’m old, Derek. And I’m tired. I was never meant to be an Alpha again after I passed the power to my daughter. So I scoured the earth to find a beta worthy of this power, with every intention of passing it down to them when the time came. I had almost given up hope when your pack found us.”

Derek swallows audibly and grabs blindly for Stiles’ hand. Stiles takes it without breaking his gaze from Byron’s face.

“Derek Hale,” Byron says formally. 

Derek stands up, bringing Stiles with him. Byron approaches the two until they are only a few feet apart. 

The rest of the pack is silent as Byron continues with his focus solely on Derek.

“For three years, I have watched you lead this pack admirably. I have head stories of your past, and have been lucky enough to have earned a place in your present. If you accept this power from me, I only hope that Tony and I can be a part of your future as well. As official betas of the Hale pack.”

Derek closes his eyes and takes a long breath in. He opens them as he exhales. “I accept your offer, and would be proud to have the two of you officially join my pack as betas.”

Isaac, Cora, and Tony erupt into joyous laughter. Lydia wipes a tear from her eyes and hugs Jackson and Chris in turn. Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand while the man shakes Byron’s.

That night, the pack’s happiness takes on a palpable form in the house. Isaac and Stiles can’t stop smiling, and Tony and Byron both look as though an enormous weight has been lifted from their shoulders.

“I still don’t see why Jackson had to be here, though,” Stiles pouts obstinately. 

“He was Derek’s first beta,” Byron interjects before Jackson can respond. “I wanted his whole pack in attendance, in case there were any objections to my offer.”

Stiles grumbles, but his attention is caught instead by the long, lingering looks being exchanged between Jackson and Isaac. Lydia is eying the two speculatively with a smirk on her face that Stiles doesn’t want to even try to translate.

“Damn it,” Stiles whispers under his breath towards the three, already accepting defeat. He shakes his head and busies himself with the dishes.

They perform the ceremony a month later down on the dock. It’s more casual than Stiles is expecting, with all of the attendees wearing swim suits, but it is a beautiful day out and they’re planning to spend it on the lake.

It is clear to everyone when the transition of powers takes hold. Byron’s eyes turn gold in the same moment as Derek’s turn a piercing red. Derek gasps and pitches forward, holding himself up with his hands on his knees.

Stiles runs to his side and places his hand on the wolf’s back to steady him. 

Byron smiles brightly and looks around for Tony, embracing the boy when he runs to his grandfather’s side.

“I’m ok,” Derek assures Stiles, standing to his full height and looking up towards the sky. He anchors himself to Stiles’ touch and takes a second to look at each of his packmates in attendance.

John, who had flown up to witness the ceremony, sends Derek a proud nod. He’s been visiting more often after Stiles opened up to him about what had happened with Donovan. Their relationship has never been better.

Isaac and Jackson both look happy, but also look like it is taking all of their impulse control not to jump into the lake.

Derek laughs at the two and nods at them to go ahead. They do, and are soon joined by Lydia, Cora, Tony, and Chris.

John follows them more sedately and perches himself on the dock with his feet in the water. Lo joins him immediately and curls up with her head resting on his thigh.

Byron holds his hand out and shakes Derek’s. 

“I don’t know what to say,” admits Derek sheepishly. “Thank you.”

But Byron just smiles at him and nods once in peaceful understanding. He turns around and takes a seat next to John, scratching the ever-growing puppy behind the ears.

Stiles turns his attention back towards Derek. “My, what red eyes you have, Alpha Hale,” he says, batting his eyelashes.

Derek growls at him playfully and picks him up in a single, sweeping motion. Ignoring Stiles’ pleas for leniency, the Alpha walks him over to the edge of the dock and addresses his pack.

“For my first act as Alpha, I will now throw the love of my life into the lake. All those in favor, say ‘aye.’”

“Aye,” comes a chorus of voices in the lake and on the dock. 

“Traitors!” Stiles yells as he’s suddenly airborne. He hits the water with a loud splash and surfaces seconds later by Jackson.

For a second, it looks as though the wolf is reaching forward to help Stiles, but at the last second he pulls away. “Not exactly the happily ever after you were hoping for, is it, Stilinski?” Jackson asks snidely to cover up the moment of vulnerability.

Stiles just smiles at him and shakes his head, already swimming back towards the dock to enact his revenge. “On the contrary, Jacks. This is exactly what my happily ever after looks like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I really appreciate you all taking the time to give me feedback and kudos throughout this posting process :) I hope you've enjoyed the way I wrapped this up!
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> Feel free to visit me on Tumblr at insecure-neurotic-control-freak :)


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